Two Hearts, One Mind
by obsessedbonesfan
Summary: Booth gives Brennan some shocking news-he has to go to Iraq for six months. With a sub agent and a new case, will Brennan be able to deal with Booth being gone and everything that happened between them before he left? Chapter 16 finally up!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I thought that since summer is just beginning, and school is almost over, I would have time to try and tackle another multi-chap fic. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome!**

**Disclaimer: As always, I don't own Bones. Sigh.**

_He was kissing her. His lips fit hers, if that was even possible, and he tasted good. Very good._

_She let him deepen the kiss, his fingers tangled in her hair. She felt one arm wrap around her waist, pulling her to him. _

_He pulled away and she only had the time to draw in a single breath before his lips came crashing back down onto hers. She kissed him back hard, hearing him groan. What would she have to do to hear that again? It had sounded so good to her ears._

"_Bones…." She heard him murmur against her lips before he pulled away once again. She sucked in air and opened her eyes. Standing in front of her, eyes burning with desire, was her partner, Seeley Booth._

She sat up, realizing that she had, once again, fallen asleep at her desk. This was, what, the fifth time this week that she'd had this dream? It never changed.

She glanced at the clock on her desk to find that it was around midnight. Running a hand through her hair, she let her head fall back onto her crossed arms. If she went home, Andrew would be there and she really didn't want to see him right now. What if she had another dream? This time where she was actually sleeping with Booth? How uncomfortable would that be to wake up in the morning next to Andrew after she had been sleeping with Booth in her mind? That was like cheating on him, just not actually doing it. She couldn't go home until she stopped having these dreams.

She heard footsteps outside her office and sat up. Who would be here right now? Andrew would just call her to tell her that it was late, and she should come home. Not that she ever listened to him, but still.

She watched as her partner walked up to the doorway and stepped inside. He looked at her, a small smile on his face. "Bones, do you ever sleep? You need to go home." He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest. "Did something happen between you and Andrew?" He inquired, his expression growing serious.

"No, I just…haven't been sleeping well lately and it's easier here." She answered, unable to look him in the eye.

"It's easier to sleep here?" His brow furrowed as he stared at her in disbelief. "How is it easier to sleep here?"

"Not to sleep, exactly…it's just that if I _can't_ I have more options. I can do paperwork, work on my book, or identify-" He interrupted her before she could finish the sentence.

"Bones, you can take paperwork home, your book is on your laptop and even though you can't identify bodies from Limbo, I did force you to buy a television and a bunch of DVD's. Right now, it looks as though your apartment has more options than this lab. Do you want to tell me what's going on or am I going to have to force it out of you?"

How could she tell him about the dreams? He was the main focus of those and the whole kissing thing would just make it uncomfortable. She couldn't tell him anything. As she stared at him, struggling to come up with something to say, her gaze found its way to his lips. What would it feel like to _actually_ kiss him? Would he kiss her back or push her away? They were partners, nothing more, and there was the issue of his line-wait, what was she thinking? It wasn't as if she was actually going to do it.

"Um…it's just me and Andrew. We're kind of going through a rough time and I just needed a few nights alone." She replied, hoping that would be enough to convince him.

"What kind of a rough time?" He had stepped into her office, his arms still folded across his chest. "He didn't hit you, did he?"

"No, of course not. We just got in this huge fight a few days ago and I just felt like I wanted to spend some time alone." His expression softened and he sank down into the chair in front of her desk. "And what are you doing here, anyway?"

"I couldn't sleep. Plus, I haven't seen you in a while, Bones. No cases, and lately you've been wrapped up with Andrew."

"Were you planning on going to my house, too?"

"I figured if you weren't here, I'd just go home. Wouldn't want to wake you up in the middle of the night or anything."

"Then I guess it was a good thing I was already awake." She gave him a small smile, which he returned. "So, how have you been?"

He laughed. "It's the middle of the night and you're asking me how I've been? Bones, go home and get some sleep."

"But you just told me you wanted to spend some time with me! Now you're telling me to go home and get some sleep?"

"You look like you need to sleep, and my insomnia shouldn't be keeping you awake anyway. You don't sleep enough as it is." He gently tapped his fingers on the edge of her desk. "So, do you need a ride home?"

"I don't want to go home."

"And why not?" All traces of his amusement were gone and he was giving her a puzzled look. "It was just a fight, you can apologize and everything will be fine."

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?" He asked.

"I don't know." She murmured, looking down at her hands. "I guess…it's not working out."

"It isn't?" His eyes were concerned, and his fingers began drumming the edge of her desk. "Why? You two seemed very happy together last week."

She reached out and placed her hand over his, stopping the sound. "Stop. That was last week, Booth. Now all we do is fight."

"Well, are you going to break up with him?"

"I should, I know, but…that will mean that another relationship has ended. I don't think that I will ever find someone to spend the rest of my life with."

"Bones…" He sighed. "Yes, you will. These things take time. It's not going to happen overnight."

"You're not helping."

"I'm sorry, Bones, but that's the truth." He leaned over her desk, pausing only inches from her. "One day, a guy is going to come along and you'll be swept away. But you just have to find the right guy."

"That's not as easy as you make it sound, you know. If it was, both you and I would have found someone by now."

"I wish I had, but like I said before, _it takes time_. Now, can I give you a ride home?"

She rolled her eyes, but stood. "Yes, Booth, you can take me home." He helped her into her coat, despite her protests, and they headed out of the lab, his hand falling to its normal position on her back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Another chapter already! I'm almost done with the third one, so it should be up today or tomorrow, depending on when I feel like finishing it. School is out next week, but finals are next week, too, so after I'm done with chapter three, I might not be able to write any more for a little while. Thanks for everyone who read this yesterday, and as always, constructive criticism and reviews are welcome!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, sadly, so this is just for fun.**

"Thanks for dropping me off, Booth." She said, unbuckling her seat belt. "It was wonderful to not to have to call a cab again."

"You've been calling cabs to come pick you up?" He asked, getting out of the car. "Why not just call Andrew? And how long have you been working this late, anyway?"

"Booth…" She sighed as he walked up to where she stood on the sidewalk. "It's just been a little difficult with Andrew lately, all right? Why can't you just let it go?" She spun away from him and headed toward the front of her apartment building.

"Bones!" She heard his voice behind her and paused, turning to face him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pressure you with asking about Andrew and everything."

"You're going to walk me up to my apartment no matter what, aren't you?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Um, yes." He said, giving her a quizzical look. She didn't reply, just turned around and entered the building.

The elevator ride up to her floor was silent, the air thick with tension between them. She didn't want him here right now. She didn't need him to walk her up to her apartment every time he dropped her off. It would have been easier to be alone, so she could think of what she was going to have to tell Andrew. This wasn't going to be easy.

The elevator 'dinged' their arrival, and they stepped out into the hallway. She noticed that he kept a little more distance between them, but was too tired to even try to analyze what that could possibly mean.

She unlocked the door to her place and was about to step inside when he placed a hand on her arm.

"What?" She asked, looking over at him. His mouth was set in a firm line, and his eyes were serious.

"Good night, Bones. And good luck with Andrew." He said softly, before turning around and walking down the hallway. She watched him go, a slight feeling of guilt swirling in her stomach. She shouldn't have been so hard on him-after all, it wasn't his fault that she was having problems with Andrew.

"Good night, Booth." She whispered, even though she knew he couldn't hear her. With that, she turned the knob and crossed the threshold. She paused to hang up her coat in the closet, and moved to set her purse down on the small table next to it.

"Well, it's about time you got home, Tempe." His voice startled her, and she spun around to find him standing in the middle of the living room. His arms were folded over his bare chest, and a wry smile played at his lips. "Did Booth drop you off?"

"Yes, Andrew, he did." She replied, her voice cold. "He actually came to the lab, instead of just calling and telling me to come home."

"I would have come and picked you up if you called." He made his way over to the couch and sank down onto it. "But you never call me. You just call a cab."

"I didn't want to wake you up in the middle of the night." She said, hoping that would be enough to convince him to drop the issue.

"Oh, but you'll wake Booth up in the middle of the night?" He asked sarcastically.

"Andrew, I didn't wake him up. He came to the lab because he couldn't sleep. I've never called him to drop me off." She answered, wanting to get off this train of thought immediately. He always got defensive when Booth was brought up, and it had led to some of their worst fights.

"So, whenever he can't sleep, he comes looking for you at the lab?" He laughed dryly and looked away from her. "Oh, you just don't want to let me know that you're having an affair with him. Do you think I'm blind? I knew from the moment I saw you with him that there was something more there. Yet, I still decided-"

She cut him off. She couldn't take this anymore. "What? Are you ridiculous? We…me and Booth are just partners. There's nothing between us." She was surprised at how disappointed she sounded when she spoke those last words. When had that changed? She had always been happy with being 'just partners' before.

"Of course there's not." He sighed, and let his head fall into his hands. A moment later, he looked up and met her eyes again. "Do you still want to try and fix this? Fix us?" He gestured between them. "Because I don't think it's going to be worth it."

"All we ever do is fight, Andrew. I don't think we're ever going to be able to fix this." All she wanted to do was go to bed, to fall into a sleep that was silent and black, so that she didn't have to think anymore. So that she could finally get some rest, and stop having those dreams…

"Tempe? Tempe? Are you all right?" She heard him say, and she shook herself out of her thoughts to find him staring at her.

"I'm fine…do you want to get your things?" She yawned, barely able to keep her eyes open any longer.

"Yeah…so I guess this is the end, huh?"

"Yes, Andrew, it is the end of another relationship. I was wondering when it was going to come." She murmured to herself, finding her thoughts muddled.

He turned away from her, and walked back into her bedroom. She made her way over to the couch, and sank down onto it, her eyes seeming to close of their own volition. Someone-it must have been Andrew-covered her with a blanket, and that was the last thing she knew before she fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. Fox does. This is just for fun.**

_She groaned, his lips tracing their way down her neck. Her breath hitched as he began to unbutton her shirt, his fingers gliding down over her chest and torso. _

_His lips found hers again, and she smiled into his kiss. She heard him laugh softly in response, and pull away. _

"_I knew you'd like that." He whispered, leaning his forehead against hers. Blue eyes met chocolate brown as she gazed up at him, taking in every contour of his face. It was one she knew all too well._

"_I did, Booth, very much." She replied, her hands sliding up underneath his shirt. "But why'd you stop there?"_

"_You wanted me to continue?" He asked, his hands moving to cover her own. "I thought we were going to wait."_

"_It's been three months. I think that's long enough, don't you?" He didn't bother replying._

_He caught her lips in a deep, passionate kiss, pressing her back into the wall again. When they came up for air, she stared up at him and tried to catch her breath. "I thought you were a bedroom kind of guy." He started to laugh, and she soon joined in, both holding each other up as they continued to laugh._

"_Bones…" He managed to gasp out, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. "I didn't think you would say something like that."_

"_It just popped into my head. I mean, you do seem like a bedroom kind of guy. You're kind of set in your ways."_

"_A man can change." He said huskily, pulling her toward his bedroom. "But when you find something that works, you stick with it."_

"_And this is what works for you?" She breathed as he gently pushed her back onto the bed._

"_It has so far." He whispered, pulling off his shirt before he climbed up onto the bed. He looked down at her and smiled. "But we'll see. I'm up for suggestions." He murmured, dropping his lips to hers. Her eyes closed-KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK._

_He pulled away, and she stared up at him quizzically. "Who would be here right now, Booth? It's ten at night."_

_He didn't answer, just stood and headed toward the door. KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK-_

She sat up on her couch, the blanket tangled around her legs. She glanced at the clock on the end table to find that it was only six-thirty. Who the hell would be at her house at six-thirty on a Saturday morning? As the knocking continued to become more and more frenzied, she dragged herself up, the blanket getting caught up in the cushions. She fell with a large thud to the floor, causing the person standing outside her door to begin shouting in panic.

"Bones! Bones! Are you all right?!" Oh, God, it was Booth. Her skin began to tingle at the thought of him, and she angrily kicked off the blanket that come horribly tangled around her legs. She stood quickly, adjusting her clothes and running a hand through her hair. Passing by a mirror on her way to the door, she cringed at the sight of her reflection, then immediately scolded herself. It was just Booth. What, exactly, was the big deal about how she looked? Even as she tried to shake off this line of thought, it seemed to be stuck. She sighed, and rolled her eyes. Did she really have to deal with this right now?

"I'm fine, Booth!" She said, rather loudly, as she opened the door. "Do you really want to wake up the whole building right now?"

"I wasn't planning on it." He replied, pushing past her. "But you weren't coming, and then I heard this huge thud, and then you weren't answering…nice bedhead, by the way."

"Booth…" She sighed, shutting the door behind her. "What are you doing here right now? It's six-thirty on a Saturday morning. You're usually comatose at this hour."

"Was that a joke?" He asked as he walked into her kitchen, setting the bagels and coffee he had brought down on the table. "It _was_ pretty funny."

"Don't change the subject." She followed him, and pulled out a chair, sinking down into it. "I want to know why you so rudely woke me when you could have called first."

"Well, when I got home, I still couldn't sleep, so I sat around watching bad infomercials for a few hours, and then decided to pick up some coffee and bagels." He opened the bag and pulled out a plain bagel. "I figured you'd want some company after last night."

"And what made you think that I would be awake after coming home at one? I haven't gotten a full night of sleep in five days. You couldn't have called first?" She watched as he made his way over to her cabinets, pulling out two plates.

"And who's decision was it to not sleep for five days?" He replied, his back to her. He reached into her silverware drawer and pulled out a knife, sliding it shut with his hip. "Not mine. How many times have I told you to go home and get some rest?"

"More than any normal human being could count." She answered, pressing the palms of her hands to her eyes. The sound of a plate being placed on the table made her remove her hands from her face. Looking down, she found two halves of a plain bagel sitting in front of her, each spread evenly with a light layer of cream cheese.

"You should eat, Bones. It'll help you feel better." She glanced up to see him smiling softly at her, a half-eaten salt bagel in one hand. She sighed and shook her head, unable to keep a smile of her own from forming on her face.

"Thanks, Booth." A pleasant silence fell between them as they ate, and she found herself glancing over at him more and more. It was nice to be with someone she knew so well that words weren't needed. With Andrew, it had felt as though the silence constantly had to be filled with some kind of noise. She hadn't been comfortable enough with him. There had been no room for quiet in that relationship.

"See anything you like, Bones?" His voice snapped her out of her reverie, and she looked down at her now empty plate. She began pushing the crumbs around on her plate, a slight tinge of pink rising on her cheeks. "Oh, c'mon. I didn't mean anything by it." He gently placed two fingers under her chin, and lifted her head so that she was forced to look him in the eyes. "I'm sorry. I guess it really wasn't that funny."

"No, Booth, it wasn't." She picked up her plate and stood, making her way over to the sink. She dropped the plate into it, and turned back towards him, leaning against the edge of the counter. She folded her arms over her chest, and looked down at her feet. She heard him make his way over to her, and he gently placed two fingers under her chin so that she was forced to meet his eyes once again.

"I really am sorry, Bones. I guess I've just forgotten how much a break-up can hurt." He murmured, his fingers falling from the bottom of her chin. "But I have to tell you something."

What could he have to tell her? There was obviously no case, and if his last words were any indication, he had no girlfriend and hadn't for a while. So, what could there be left? She looked at him closely as he paused, the words appearing to be stuck in his throat.

"Well, Booth, what is it?" She asked after the silence had become unbearable. She saw him swallow hard, and he averted his gaze.

"I should have told you sooner, but I didn't know how to. They're deploying me on Monday." He answered, raising his eyes to hers. "To Iraq. For six months."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: I really should be studying for my last two finals tomorrow, considering one of them is math, which is my hardest subject. But, I got distracted and decided to finish this chapter instead. I hope you enjoy it, and thanks for all the reviews and favorites!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, and I never will. It, unfortunately, belongs to Fox.**

"_I should have told you sooner, but I didn't know how to. They're shipping me out on Monday." He answered, raising his eyes to hers. "To Iraq. For six months."_

Her mouth fell open before she could stop it, and she stared at him with a mixture of shock and disbelief on her face. Iraq? How could they be sending him to _Iraq_? Didn't they know how much he was needed here, protecting the country from its own internal enemies? They had the best record in the FBI, for God's sake. They couldn't send him to Iraq. "Why? Aren't you needed more here than over there?" She managed to choke out, her voice thick.

"You're the brains of the operation, Bones." He replied, giving her a wry smile. "I'm just the agent who arrests the bad guys. I'm expendable. When your country calls you to defend it, you go."

"Well, aren't there other men they could send? This is a country teeming with young men who could be called to arms. You've already done your time." Even as she attempted to reason with him, to show him that this was completely unfair, that he shouldn't have to go over there again, she knew that he had already accepted the reality of the situation. It was her that was in denial.

He was a man of honor. She knew that. She also knew that if his country called him to fight, he would. And there was nothing she could do about it.

"Monday is in two days, Booth. It's in two days, and you didn't tell me until now? Didn't you think I deserved to know this as soon as you knew about it? I'm your partner. You can't just drop this on someone and expect them to be okay with it." She said, her tone revealing her anger. "And what about Parker?"

"What about him?" He asked, his eyes growing dark with emotion. "I already explained all of this to him."

"You did?" She said disbelievingly. "Did you tell him that you might never come home? That you might die fighting a senseless war that was started based on false evidence? That he might-"

He cut her off. "You know what, Bones? You don't know anything about this." He pointed an index finger at her, and his voice rose. "I'm fighting to keep this country safe, and if you can't understand that, then those three PhD's you have mean nothing. All that science crap you learned over the years that you can spout out any time you want, it means nothing. Because if you're not loyal to your country, then you're just as bad as they are." He spun away from her, and stormed over to her front door, pausing only to grab his jacket.

She stood in the middle of her kitchen, stunned by the intensity with which he had spoken. She knew that he strongly supported, if not the war itself exactly, then those who were sent away to fight it. She should have respected his beliefs; but the news had come as such a shock. It did little to justify her behavior towards him, but those had been the first words to pop into her head.

She was a fighter and a runner. Her years in the foster system had taught her to be that way. She fought against anything that stood in her way, and ran from anyone who got too close. It was the way she had programmed herself, and she didn't know any of the codes to change those programs.

Sighing, she made her way into her bedroom. She knew that she had to apologize to him, but it would probably be in her best interest to let him cool off a little. Sliding between the cool sheets of her bed, she soon drifted off into a deep, silent sleep.

_____________________________________________________

She stood outside his apartment at exactly noon. She reached down and smoothed out her shirt; it was just a simple, long-sleeved, blue V-neck, but Angela had mumbled something once about it being his favorite, which made absolutely no sense. Still, she figured that she should do anything to get ahead right now, and if nothing else, it was comfortable.

She had raised her hand to knock when the door swung open.

"How did you know I was here?" She asked. He didn't answer, just motioned for her to step inside. She did, pausing awkwardly about halfway to the living room. He shut the door behind him, and turned to face her, arms crossed over his chest.

"Are you here to throw some more anti-war propaganda in my face?" He said coldly, his eyes dark. "Because I really don't want to hear it."

"No, Booth, I came to apologize." She replied softly, lowering her gaze under his intense scrutiny. "I shouldn't have spoken so irrationally. I should have respected your beliefs."

His eyes softened, and he let his arms fall to his sides, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I just didn't think I would hear it from you, Bones. I thought by now, you'd get it."

"I reacted badly, I know that. And I do get it, I just…" Her voice trailed off, and the emotions she wanted to portray were lost as she found no words to speak. She always knew what to say when it came to science, or logic, but with her emotions, her tongue locked up tighter than if a cat really did have it. "I didn't…I just didn't like the thought of you having to go over there again. You've already done your time, and it was a huge surprise to just drop on someone. Especially if the person is leaving in _two_ _days_."

"I know…I guess I just didn't want to have to tell you." He said sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. "So I procrastinated, which was even worse. I'm sorry."

His explanation made sense. He knew that she hated working with sub agents (they could never quite rise to his level, in her opinion), and that she wouldn't want to face the fact that when he got on that plane, it might be the last time she saw him alive-or ever. He knew her too well, by now, and even if she didn't want to admit it, it was true. She wouldn't have wanted to face that reality then, but she especially didn't want to now. There were only two days before his departure. Two days, forty-eight hours, 2,880 seconds, to spend with the person she just might not be able to live without.

"It's fine, Booth. I get it. I probably would have reacted that way even if you told me last week." She wanted to fix things, move past this argument they'd had this morning.

He smiled softly. "Thanks, Bones." The words hung in the air between them as silence fell. His chocolate brown eyes met her own icy blue ones, and she felt warmth spread through her, something that was happening more and more when she was with him. He reached out and brushed a lock of hair from her face, his hand moving to cup the back of her neck. She felt herself unconsciously lean into him, and she saw that he was doing the same to her. Her eyes began to close as the distance between them decreased, and their lips were just about to meet when a string of knocks echoed through the small apartment. She pulled away, cheeks burning, and took a step back. He stared at her in shock for a few seconds, then spun around and opened the door, not even pausing to look to see who it was.

"Daddy!" His son, Parker, flew through the door. "What took you so long?"

"I was just talking to Bones." He said, bending down to give Parker a hug. "Hello, Rebecca."

"You can have him for the night, too." Rebecca replied, standing awkwardly in the doorway. Reaching out, she ruffled Parker's hair. "You have fun with your daddy, all right? I'll see you tomorrow."

"'Kay, Mom." Parker replied before turning towards Brennan. "Are you coming with us too, Dr. Bones?"

"Yeah, Bones, you want to come?" He looked over at her hopefully, and she couldn't resist the two of them.

"Sure." She replied, not meeting his gaze. "That sounds fun." She quickly covered the distance between them, and they all headed out of the apartment. Booth slung an arm around her shoulder, and leaned over.

"Thanks, Bones." He whispered softly in her ear, and she inhaled sharply at the shivers that ran up and down her spine. "It means a lot." His arm fell away, and he turned his attention back to his son. She was left feeling confused and uncomfortable, and she could sharply feel the tension radiating between them. She pulled herself out of her thoughts, and turned towards Parker, who was throwing a string of questions of various animals at her. She felt a small smile grace her lips, and quickly answered the first one. There was nothing quite like science to get her mind off things.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: I'm so sorry that it took me this long to update, but this chapter was a little longer than the others, and it was harder for me to write. I must have changed the way I wanted the ending at least three times! Thanks for all the favorites and reviews, and for reading this! Oh, and I don't remember if it was ever mentioned in the series if Brennan knew Star Wars, but in this story, she doesn't.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, Fox does, and this is just for fun.**

The sauce bubbled on the stove, and she picked up a spoon to stir it. He had talked her into making dinner for them after they had left the zoo that afternoon. Although her mac-n-cheese was his favorite (and Parker's too), she was in the mood for something different.

The trip to the zoo had been a success. Parker had continued to throw questions at her about every kind of animal he knew of, not just those at the zoo, and Booth had even thrown in a few. All the answers were straightforward and simple, allowing her to push all thoughts of what had happened with Booth out of her mind.

She'd learned that Parker's favorite animal was the penguin, and she decided that she would try to set up a meeting with one of her zoologist colleagues who specialized in the birds. His birthday was coming up in a few weeks, and since his dad was going to be out of the country, she figured that she should do something for his birthday instead. She didn't really know if a young boy who would be turning eight would enjoy the experience, but she knew that she would have at his age. Besides, who wouldn't want to get up close and personal with their favorite animal?

"Need any help, Bones?" He asked, coming up behind her and peering over her shoulder. She stiffened at the close proximity, and her heart rate began to increase. He shouldn't be having this effect on her, but her body obviously had different ideas.

"No, it should be done in a few minutes." She replied, unable to turn around to face him. "Where's Parker?"

"He's in his room, trying to find the science project I helped him make last month for school." He said, not moving away from her. She couldn't think of anything to say in response to that, and she nearly jumped when he placed his hands on her waist, leaning over to place a soft kiss on her cheek. He pulled away slowly, and she caught a whiff of his cologne. The scent tantalized her senses, and she wondered briefly how she had never noticed how good he smelled before. In the next second, she was mentally chiding herself. Why did she have to be thinking about this right now?

The sound of small footsteps in the next room got him to move away from her. He leaned against the counter with his arms folded, looking down at his feet for a moment before she felt his eyes on her once again. The footsteps faded, and he spoke, "We need to talk, Bones."

She sighed, switching off the burners on his stove. Reaching for the strainer that had somehow ended up behind him on the counter, she looked up at him. "Booth…I don't think this is the right time to talk." She turned away, but before she could grab the pot of noodles, he placed a hand on her arm.

"We can't just…we have to talk, all right?" With that, he turned and made his way out of the kitchen. She watched him go, unable to forget the look in his eyes. It was one of urgency; a look that belonged to someone who felt he was running out of time.

________________________________________________________

Dinner was uneventful, taken up by Parker chattering away about the project he'd made last month, how it was probably at his mom's because he couldn't find it here, and how much he wanted her to see it. When that long discussion was over, he moved on to how jealous his classmates were going to be when he told them that he'd had dinner with Dr. Brennan, who seemed to be something of a celebrity in his class, despite the fact that many of them were also in the science program at the Jeffersonian. She thanked him for the compliments, and he moved onto yet another subject.

Booth was quiet during the meal, only interrupting once to tell Parker to eat his vegetables, and responding when appropriate to his son's comments. When she looked over at him, his eyes had a far away look to them, as though he were somewhere else. She knew that he was probably thinking of his departure; it was growing closer and closer with every minute that passed.

"Booth, you don't have to help." She said, when he moved to help her clear off the table. Parker had run into the living room to pick out a movie for them to watch (he couldn't believe that she had never seen Star Wars), despite the fact that it was already almost nine in the evening. Booth had told him that he could stay up as long as he wasn't irritable in the morning when he had to get up early for church.

"Bones, this is my house, of course I have to help." He replied, taking the plates she was holding out of her hands before she could stop him. "Besides, you made dinner."

"But, you should-" She was interrupted by Parker, who had gotten everything set up by now, and was indignantly awaiting their arrival.

"C'mon, Dr. Bones. Everything's all ready." Parker said, standing in the doorway. "The beginning's the best part."

"Go on, Bones, I'll be in there in a minute." He said, gently pushing her towards the living room. "These dishes won't take long to load into the dishwasher."

She let Parker lead her into the living room, where he started the movie and proceeded to tell her a little bit of the background story. She attempted to listen, but to be perfectly honest, she was thinking about Booth, and his cryptic message about them needing to talk.

After about twenty minutes, Booth sat down next to her on the couch. She looked over at him, trying to catch his gaze, but he kept his eyes trained on the television. Sighing, she turned her attention back to the movie (which was riddled with inaccuracies, but she supposed that was why it was called science _fiction_). She could tell that he was tense and distracted by something, which in turn made her tense and distracted worrying about him.

By ten, Parker had fallen asleep next to her, his head resting on her arm. "Booth?" She whispered, catching his attention. "I think Parker's ready for bed."

He looked over at her, and chuckled softly, his mouth relaxing into a smile. " I suppose you could say he is."

She watched as he gently picked Parker up, and made his way down to his son's bedroom. He really was a wonderful father; Rebecca should be allowing him a lot more time with him than she was.

She stood, slipping into her coat that Booth had placed over the couch. She saw her purse nowhere in sight, however, and she was searching for it when he walked back into the room.

"Bones, what are you doing?" He asked, arms crossed over his chest.

"I was just looking for my purse." She said, frustrated. "Where did you put it?"

He walked over, grabbing her purse from where it sat next to the couch. "It's right here. Didn't you see it?"

"No, I didn't." She replied, taking a deep breath. "Thanks." She took it from him, and slung it up onto her shoulder after rooting through it to find her car keys. She clasped them in her hand as she met his eyes. "So, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Bones, we have to talk." He sank down onto the edge of the couch and gestured for her to join him. "I have something I need to tell you. Something I've been keeping from you for far too long."

She hesitated for a moment, turning the car keys over and over in her hands. She was tired, and it was getting late; he had to get up early tomorrow. His gaze was pleading with her to stay, though, and she couldn't leave like this. "What do you need to tell me?" She asked, sitting down next to him.

"That I want to be more than 'just partners', Bones. That I want more than 'just coffee'. I want to be with you, in a romantic relationship." She could tell that he had chosen his words carefully, ones that would be least likely to upset her. She stared at him; since he had turned away from her, she ended up staring at the side of his face. Despite the fact that this was Booth, and she shouldn't be afraid (hadn't he already proved that he was going to be around for the long haul?), the same emotions welled up inside of her. The fear of being left behind, and the urge to run, were still too strong for her to feel any other sort of emotion after this statement.

"What?" She said, unable to come up with any other sort of response.

"I said that-"

"I heard what you said, Booth." She cut him off, her brow furrowing in anger. "But why did you suddenly feel the urge to blurt out your feelings?" She already knew the answer; she just wanted to hear it fall from his lips. For the moment, everything she thought she knew was displaced. Her suspicions were most likely correct, but there was still a small thread of hope that, for once, she was wrong about this. She clung to it as she waited for him to respond.

"Bones…I…I've felt like this-" She cut him off again, her anger getting the better of her.

"For a while, Booth, I know, all right? Lately, I've begun to think about what Angela has been rambling on about for the last four and a half years, and I've already come to the conclusion that you're in love with me. I was just waiting for you to make the first move. All this time, Booth, and you choose this moment to tell me that you want more? You didn't answer my question. _Why_ did you choose to tell me this _now_, when last week would have been just fine?" She was on her feet, glaring down at him, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. He stood also, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes darkened, and he glared right back at her.

"Don't you already know the answer to that question? You obviously have to have some idea to attack me like this. I tell you I want to talk to you about something, and then when I pour out my feelings-"

"What feelings? The only reason you even told me about your 'feelings' tonight was because you're leaving for Iraq on Monday and this was your last chance. What if you didn't have to fly halfway around the world in two days? Would we even be having this conversation right now?" When he didn't reply, she shook her head. "I knew it. You're in love with me, you say, but you won't even tell me about it. Didn't you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, I feel the same way?" She paused, breathing heavily. Grabbing her purse and keys from the couch, she turned away from him and marched over to his front door. When she heard him follow her, she spun around, her hand on the doorknob. "Don't even think about following me."

With that, she wrenched the door open, and stormed out into the hall, slamming the door shut behind her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: I was on vacation for four days, so that's part of the reason this took so long. Also, I was reading _a lot_, since I couldn't find any time for that during the end of the school year. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews and everything! I really appreciate it. Oh, and there's spoilers for the Season 3 finale.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, Fox (and Hart Hanson) do, and unless there is some kind of miracle that occurs, I never will. This is just for fun.**

She sat at her desk in her office, staring at the lit monitor in front of her. She had been trying to finish the latest chapter of her novel, but the words refused to come. She sighed in frustration, turning her head away from the screen. Her eyes alighted on a small framed photo, one that Angela had taken two years ago at the party she had thrown to celebrate Zack's return from Iraq. Brennan didn't want to think about Zack now, or possibly ever again, but she couldn't take her eyes off of the picture.

Angela had been very excited about everyone being back together again, and as a result had taken out her camera to take about a million pictures. She had made everyone pose in different spots in the lab (some even outside), and spent the good part of the affair snapping photos. This had been just one of the many that she had taken, and as a surprise a few weeks ago, gave Brennan this one in a frame.

It was just the two of them, her and Booth. They stood on the steps to the lab platform, his arm around her shoulders. She smiled softly as she looked down at the snapshot; she could distinctly remember Angela yelling at Hodgins to get off the platform so that there wouldn't be anyone in the background.

They looked so happy together. Zack was back, and they were back to their normal working relationship. What could be better than that? Little did they know that, in less than a year, the one they were celebrating so happily would be locked up in a psychiatric facility after he confessed to killing a man for a serial killer they called Gormagon. It didn't matter now that Gormagon was dead; that he would never kill again in his quest to complete that silver skeleton. He had left his mark in the world, and especially in their team.

She'd already lost one member of her team, and now _Booth_ was going to Iraq. Was she really mad about him telling her his feelings now? God, she hated psychology, but there seemed to be other reasons for her to act that way swirling beneath the surface. And she knew what they were; she just didn't wish to acknowledge them. If she acknowledged them, it would make them real, and she wasn't exactly sure if she wanted that.

She reached out to set the photo back on her desk, and heard quick footsteps echo through the empty space. Turning around, she saw Angela coming towards her, arms crossed over her chest. Angela paused in the doorway of the office, her features twisting into something that could only be described as a glare, and she leaned against the doorframe in a fashion very similar to that of Booth's last night. Had it only been last night? It seemed as though days had passed since then.

"Angela, what are you doing here?" She asked, her brow furrowing.

"I was about to ask you the same thing, Brennan. Why aren't you with Booth?" Angela demanded, taking a few more steps into the lit office. "What is wrong with you?"

"I can't think of anything at the moment that's wrong with me." She replied, wracking her brain to try and pick out anything that could have made Angela so angry. "And as for the first question, it's none of your business."

"It is my business, because I'm your best friend, and I know what's good for you. _Booth_ is good for you. So, why aren't you with him?" Angela plopped down into the chair in front of Brennan's desk, arms still folded across her chest.

"Why should I tell you if you never answered my question?" At this, Angela sighed heavily and rolled her eyes.

"Will you tell me what I want to know if I tell you what you want to know?"

"Maybe. It depends."

"_Maybe? It depends? _Nuh-uh, there is no way I'm telling you anything now. You'll just clam up after I tell you." For a few moments, they sat across from each other, each attempting to cause the other to break their silence. But Angela knew that she could sit here until the end of the Earth, and Brennan would still never budge. So after waiting a few more minutes (hey, there was nothing wrong with trying, right?), she broke the silence.

"Bren, it's midnight. Booth's plane takes off in thirty-six hours. Do you really want him to go off to Iraq without fixing things? I mean-"

"How did you know we had a fight?" She interjected, her voice a little louder than normal. "Did he call you and tell you to come after me?"

"Sweetie-"

"Don't 'Sweetie' me, Angela. He did, didn't he? Why didn't he just come after me himself? He's the one who told me about his feelings, so he should be the one who comes chasing after me. Not you." She stood suddenly, whirling around to grab her jacket off of the coat rack behind her chair. "And I'm not going to sit around and be interrogated by you."

"He didn't call me." Brennan paused in the doorway, her quick departure cut off by this statement. She turned around slowly, a sheepish look on her face.

"He didn't?" She repeated, questioning. When Angela nodded her head in agreement, she let her shoulders slump with exhaustion and guilt. "I just…I thought…" She let her voice trail off as Angela stood, making her way over to her.

"I know what you thought. I would probably have thought the same thing, if it had been me and Hodgins." Angela said, pulling Brennan into a hug. "Don't worry about it, all right?"

"Thanks." She said, pulling away. "I'm sorry I acted so irrationally."

"Hey, it was about a guy. It was about time you acted 'irrationally' over a guy. Not to mention, a very special guy."

"But, I yelled at you. How does that count?" She asked, her brow furrowing, this time in confusion.

"You yelled at me because of an argument you had earlier with Booth. It counts."

"I should go talk to him, shouldn't I?"

"Yeah, Bren, you should."

___________________________________________________

She let herself in, using the key he'd given her for emergencies. It was something that was very unlike her, but she didn't want to wake him up.

At least that's what she told herself as she paused in the small foyer, slipping out of her shoes and coat. Sneaking into his apartment like this, she didn't like it. But, there was that whole thing about not waking him up. Yeah, right. Though she would never admit it, it was more that she didn't want to have to face whatever anger he might throw in her direction after what she had said to him.

She made her way down the short hallway into the living room. She stopped in her tracks when she saw him, fast asleep in the armchair, a half-finished bottle of beer dangling from his grasp. Judging from the lack of bottles on the coffee table in front of him, it had to be his first. She knew there was no way he would have gotten drunk with Parker around, no matter how upsetting their argument had been to him.

The television cast a glow over him, illuminating his features. His mouth was set in a firm line, and his brow was creased, making it obvious that his sleep wasn't any more peaceful than his real life. She sighed, a sound that was barely audible, and she felt a growing tightness in her chest. She hoped that she hadn't been the one to upset his dreams; she didn't want to have caused him any more pain than she already had.

Why are we always causing each other pain? She thought to herself as she crossed the room on light feet, making sure not to bump into anything. All right, so maybe we don't cause _that_ much pain to be had between us, she conceded as she worked the bottle out of his hand, but it seems that whenever we try to get anywhere, it always turns into an argument. It had been that way in the beginning, and seemed to be heading in that direction now. Harsh words were exchanged, both of their tempers too short to allow for any sort of rational conversation.

Sure, last night had been fine. She grabbed a blanket from the couch, and draped it over him. No sense in waking him now, when the damage had already been done to his back. Her thoughts took a brief turn when she paused to wonder why in the world they were sending him over there with his bad back. If it had been her decision, she would have sent someone younger, and more capable, over there. Though she seriously doubted there was anyone more capable than her partner.

She leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. He stirred briefly, and she froze, waiting for him to fall back into his sleep. He did, and she smiled faintly as she saw that the wrinkles on his brow had disappeared.

She turned around to find her face appear on the screen in front of her. The late night talk show was obviously running re-runs, and hers was one of them. She quickly shut it off, cringing at the small amount of the interview that she had managed to catch. Booth had certainly helped her with her interviewing skills, but they still left much to be desired. That's what being a famous author will get you, though. Your face plastered over some television screen at nearly one in the morning.

She made her way back over to him, sinking down to the floor in front of where he sat. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she leaned her head against his knee. This was in no way a comfortable position, but she wanted to be near him right now. And if this was the way she had to do it, she would. Her eyes closed, almost against her will, and she soon fell into a restful, if light, sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: I'm writing this from Tennessee, where I'm staying with my grandparents for a few days. My grandmother was kind enough to let me borrow her computer, so that's how you get this new chapter so soon. It's a little shorter than the others, but full of B/B fluff. It's from Booth's POV this time, but in third person. It will go back to Brennan in upcoming chapters. Thanks again for all the reviews and alerts!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, and although I sometimes become extremely annoyed by it, I never will. **

The first thing he was aware of, when he began to stir, was a slight weight against the side of his left leg. The next thing he knew, pain began to spread across the lower half of his back.

He bent forward, one hand rubbing the small of his back. The blanket that had been draped over him fell to his legs, and he blinked groggily. He couldn't remember putting a blanket on before he dozed off.

Whatever was leaning against his leg shifted, and he looked down to find her asleep on the floor next to him, her head resting on the side of his knee. He smiled softly as he gazed down at her, even as memories of their argument the evening before flooded his brain.

She'd come back. He had wanted to go after her, but with Parker here, that was nearly impossible. He didn't know what had happened to bring her back to him-she was the type to hold a grudge over something for days, and would ignore the person in question for at least that long. And at the moment, he didn't care. She was back with him, and that was all that mattered.

She shifted again, obviously trying to find a more comfortable position. Her head fell from his knee onto the cushion of the armchair, and he eased himself out of it, his back protesting his every move.

He knelt down in front of her and reached out, brushing a lock of hair from her face before he could stop himself. She looked so peaceful when she slept; the world of bones and murder didn't extend here often.

She turned toward his touch, and her hand came up to cover his own. Her eyes fluttered open, and she gave him a watery smile that faded as quickly as it came.

"I'm sorry, Booth." She whispered, her voice loud in the silence of the room. Even in the dim light, he could see that her eyes were shining with tears. "I didn't mean any of what I said."

"I know you didn't, Bones." He replied, his thumb gently wiping away a tear that had managed to escape.

"Do you forgive me?" She asked, her voice cracking. More tears fell from her eyes, and he moved closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to him. She stiffened for only a second before she relaxed against him, returning his embrace and burying her head in his shoulder.

"Of course I do." He said, rubbing her back to try and help soothe her. What had been a few tears soon turned into muffled sobs, her tears leaking through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. A few seconds later, he heard her mumble something incoherent, her lips lightly brushing against his shoulder.

"What was that, Bones?" He asked, looking down at her. She lifted her head from his shoulder to meet his gaze, her eyes still swimming with unshed tears.

"I don't want to lose you." She repeated, her words barely audible. He felt his chest tighten, and tears began to prick at the corners of his eyes.

"You're not going to lose me." He promised her, taking her face in his hands.

"You can't promise something like that." She said, the logical and rational side coming of her even under moments of emotional distress. "It's impossible to keep a promise like that."

"Fine. Then I promise you that I'll do whatever the hell it takes to make sure that I get back on that plane in six months." He answered, feeling the urge to kiss her come back stronger than before. It would be wildly inappropriate to do something like that now, when she was hurting, when they were both hurting. It just wasn't right.

And yet, when he lowered his head to brush his lips against hers, it felt more right than he'd ever imagined. Their lips met for barely a second, something that could barely be called a kiss, but it was more powerful than anything he'd ever experienced.

He began to pull away, not wanting to startle her more than he probably already had, but she must have had different ideas. Grabbing his t-shirt, she pulled him back to her, lips crashing down onto his own.

When they finally broke apart, chests heaving from lack of oxygen, they were both in shock. He didn't believe that she would have done something like that, and she couldn't believe what she had felt.

"Bones?" This probably wasn't the right time to ask that question, but then again, he thought it hadn't been the right time to kiss her, and look how that turned out. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes." She replied, untangling her hands from the folds of his shirt.

"Will you, um, go on a date with me?"

"What? You mean, in six months?" She questioned, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"No, tonight."

"What about Parker?" She asked, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. "Don't you have him Sunday night, too?"

"Rebecca won't let me, if you can believe that." He watched her as she thought over his proposition, practically able to see the wheels turning in her head.

"Yes, Booth, I would like to go on a date with you." Her answer made a huge grin spread over his face, and she smiled almost shyly in return.

He looked over at the clock to find that it was almost three in the morning. "Geez, Bones, we should get some sleep."

"I can take the couch." She said, as she began to stand and make her way over there.

"No, you shouldn't. You could stay with me, if you like." When he saw her smile fade, he knew that he had overstepped his boundaries. It was enough that she was going on a date with him, wasn't it? Why did he suddenly have to go and add that invitation to the list?

"I'm sorry." She said, shaking her head. "But, I think the couch is fine for tonight."

"I understand, Bones. Good night."

"Good night, Booth." With that, he turned and headed into his bedroom. Slipping beneath the sheets into his empty bed, he sighed. It had been so long since he had shared it with anyone, and it looked like now would be no different.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: I started this chapter a few days ago, and wrote about half of it, then had to deal with writer's block and the misguided notion of deciding to try and write a novel, so that's why it took so long for me to update. Brennan might be a little OOC in this, so I apologize if she is. Thank you for all the reviews and favorites!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, this is just for fun, Fox owns it, and I never will.**

_The sun beat down on her shoulders, its oppressive heat soaking through the Army fatigues that she wore. She looked around, confused. Where was she? It appeared to be in some kind of desert; there was nothing but sand and sky around her for miles. She couldn't see any evidence of civilization anywhere._

_However, there seemed to be something in the distance. It was too far from her to see what it was, even as she raised a hand to block out the sun. It was barely larger than a dot to her eyes; it could take all day to get there if it was something small, much longer than that if it was a city or town._

_Sighing, she began to walk, her boots sinking into the soft sand beneath her feet. Within what seemed like seconds, she was covered in sweat, and longed to take off the heavy uniform that was making the heat nearly unbearable. But she knew that it was supposed to protect her, even if she ended up with heatstroke. _

_The object grew larger and larger as the sun moved across the sky and she kept putting one foot in front of the other. Had it not been for whatever she was walking towards, she would have stopped long ago to rest. Even so, she quickly became thirsty, and found only a half of a bottle of water tucked into one of her many pockets. She had to have been out here a long time, and the water was precious. She only allowed herself a few sips about halfway towards her destination._

_Finally, after what seemed like days, she was close enough to see that it was a man lying on the ground in front of her. Glancing around her, she could see no other dots of anything in the distance. They were in the middle of nowhere, and she had no idea if she was even going in the right direction. She didn't know if he had any water, and she herself had barely any left. _

_Closing the small distance between her and the man seemed to take only a few minutes, and when she finally realized who it was, she broke into a run. Reaching his side, she threw herself down next to him._

_She placed her hand over his heart, relieved to find that it was still beating, however weak it was. His chest rose and fell almost imperceptibly, and his eyes were closed. Looking him over, she found a shotgun wound in his side, long since clotted and dried. He should have been dead by now, she knew, but she also knew that without emergency medical attention he would probably be dead soon. But she wasn't going to let herself give up on him that easily._

_His uniform was torn near the wound, and she found herself tearing off long pieces, tying them together into something that looked like a bandage. But as she went to begin wrapping his injury, his hand shot out to grab her wrist._

_His eyes were barely open as he looked at her, his fingers still wrapped around her arm. "Don't." She could barely make out the word and she leaned closer to him, hands still clasping the makeshift bandage._

"_But, Booth, it could…" Her voice trailed off, and his hand loosened around her wrist as the bandage fell from between her fingers. _

"_What? Prolong my pain? The nearest town is a two days walk north, and I wouldn't make it anyway." His breath came in short gasps now, and the fingers of his right hand wrapped around her own. _

"_Booth, don't talk like that." She said, her hand gripping his as though she could never let go. "You'll be fine."_

"_Tell Parker I love him, all right? And the squint squad, give them my best." He paused, and she felt tears fill her eyes, one overflowing to run down the side of her cheek. Her chin quivered, and she raised a hand to her mouth, muffling a sob. "Promise me you will get up and start walking, all right? I want you to live your life."_

_She didn't want to promise him that. Yet, her mouth formed the words, spoken in a quavering tone. "I promise."_

"_There's a…water bottle in one of the…pockets on my left leg. Take it…and go. Don't worry about…leaving me here, okay?" He paused again, struggling to get enough breath to speak again. "And don't forget…Bones…I'll always…love you." He closed his eyes again, and she knew that the end was near._

"_I love you." She whispered, tears traveling down her cheeks easily now. She watched as his lips turned up into a slight smile, and soon after, he drew his last breath._

_She couldn't speak; she could barely breathe. How could you have just given up like that? She wanted to scream at him, but there was no one left to scream back. She knew that if she didn't get moving soon, she could end up dying from lack of food and water, but at the moment, it seemed like a pretty good idea._

_But she had promised him that she would get moving, and so she did, after finding his water bottle, and folding his arms over his chest in the traditional way. She left only after she gently kissed him on the cheek one last time, whispering these words into his ear, even though she knew he would never hear them. "I'll always love you."_

She opened her eyes to find herself still in his apartment, fingers hopelessly twisted into the blanket that covered her, and tears running freely down her cheeks. It had felt so real, out there in that desert.

Shaking, she stood, the blanket falling into a heap at her feet. Wiping away the tears from her face, she made her way over to his bedroom, pausing in the doorway.

He was asleep, the sheets tangled around him as he lay on his back. Taking a deep breath, she felt a deep sense of relief wash over her. It had just been a dream. He was fine, and she could stop crying.

But her body would not obey, and more tears fell from her eyes as she sank down to the floor, sobbing like she hadn't been able to do in her dream. All of the fear, and anger, and sadness had been building exponentially inside of her since he had told her, and that dream had simply been the catalyst that sent her over the edge. When she had started weeping earlier, that had only skimmed the top off of this huge stack of emotions stacked inside her, and now it was toppling over, her walls no match for the force coming at them. She was falling, but he was right there to catch her.

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close to him. She kept her face buried in her hands, unable to look at him. But he wasn't about to let her hide anymore.

He gently pulled her fingers away from her face, and the sight of him made the anger she'd been trying to shove down bubble once again to the surface, pushing every other feeling out of the way.

She felt like hitting him as he looked down at her with concern in his eyes. So what if he was leaving for Iraq is less than thirty-six hours? She still felt like hitting him for working his way into her heart through all those walls she'd set up for protection, and then flying off halfway around the world for six months, leaving her here with a declaration of love and one stupid date. Did he really think that telling her how he felt would make a difference right now? Sitting here, it only made her angry at him again.

"Bones?" He whispered, having felt her stiffen against him. Her eyes met his, and they were burning with a rage that he'd only seen once before.

"I feel like hitting you." She spat, wrenching her hands from his grasp. "I really, really feel like hitting you." With that statement, she stood and began pacing around his bedroom.

"Then do it." He said, knowing full well that he deserved whatever the hell was coming. Telling her all this is a space of less than twenty-four hours hadn't been a good idea, and now he would simply have to pay the price for his actions.

"What?" He was giving her permission? She didn't want his permission, or for him to just lay down and take it. She wanted him to be angry with her, to fight back. She _needed_ that.

"Do it. I know I deserve it." His words pulled the rug right out from under her, and she felt strangely off-balance as she made her way back over to him. He stood, right there in front of her, arms hanging loosely at his sides. She knew that he wouldn't try to block any shot she would make, and that made the idea of hitting him null and void. It wouldn't give her the satisfaction or release that she needed.

But she wanted him to feel her pain. It was stupid and selfish, she knew that, but why should she be the only one who was hurting around here? She wanted him to know what it felt like, to have an empty ache grow in your chest until you almost couldn't take it anymore, and know that nothing you ever did would fully be able to relieve you of it. So she lashed out with the only thing she had left.

"I won't be seeing you tonight." She watched as the words hit him, each one harder than the last. His face crumbled, his eyes reflecting the pain she felt inside. It was almost too much to take as she watched him shut down, shoving away his emotions in the same way that she did, his face becoming an expressionless mask.

"I think you should go." He wasn't looking directly at her; his eyes fell on a spot somewhere above her head.

So, she did. Walked out of his bedroom, through the living room, and out the front door, only pausing to grab her purse. The empty ache she felt in her chest had only subsided for a moment, and now it was growing again without pause. It was like some kind of parasite in her, one that made her lash out at anyone and everyone around, so that they may understand, or at least feel, what she was going through.

Her only consolation was the fact that he, too, was feeling this kind of pain. That she was no longer alone in this misery.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: I'm so sorry it took so long to update, but this was a little bit longer than expected, and I had a lot of other plans this week. Plus, I had to read Frankenstein for English. It wasn't as bad as I expected, but it certainly wasn't a fun book to read. Thanks for all the reviews and favorites! Sorry if Brennan is a little OOC.**

**Disclaimer: Bones doesn't belong to me, it belongs to Fox. **

The bones swam in front of her eyes, and she stepped away from the table, sighing in frustration. Their last conversation, although it had been more of a one-sided argument, kept replaying over and over in her mind. No matter how many times she told herself to focus, or tried to block it from her mind, she couldn't. It ran in her head like a broken record, every word distinct and clear.

Realizing that continuing to try to work would be futile, she began packing up the bones, placing each one carefully back in the box. Now that she'd had time to think over what had happened between them, she knew that it wasn't entirely his fault…again. Yet, she'd lashed out, taking away from him what was probably one of the most important things to him at the moment.

As she carried the box down to Limbo, it was easy to think rationally about this. But when she saw him, whenever that would be, the anger would boil up again and consume her. She was always so good at controlling her emotions, had always been able to lock them up in a box whenever she so chose. It was like he'd found the key, though, and one look at him could send everything she'd been keeping inside spilling out.

It wasn't as if she had told him everything. She still had some self-control left; the things he knew barely skimmed the top of what she was keeping inside. It was the more recent things she couldn't hide away, like a case that hit a little to close to home or some kind of trouble with her newly re-built family.

She was making her way back to her office when she saw him. What was he doing here? Where was Parker, and what about his going to church? He always went to church.

He was sitting in her office, in her desk chair, guaranteeing that she would have to see him before she left. She briefly considered turning around, and heading back down to Limbo, but that wasn't who she was. If she was going to end up in an argument with someone, she went in head-first, fighting tooth and nail.

Is that how he'd changed her? Made her afraid to walk up to him and talk? That's not who she was, nor who she ever will be, but this irrational hesitation had her furious. Mostly at herself, but there was a fair amount which was directed at him.

So she kept putting one foot in front of the other, her head swirling with this new development. Why was he here? Wasn't he angry with her?

Well, isn't that what you wanted? A tiny voice in the back of her head nagged. Him to be angry with you?

Maybe that's what she had wanted in the beginning, but now all she wanted was for him to forgive her…again. The third time in little more than a day, but this time she wasn't sure if he would be able to do it.

She stepped over the threshold, and he stood, shoving his hands down into his pockets. She could barely meet his gaze; his eyes were filled with a kind of pain she'd never thought she'd make him feel. It only made the guilt weigh heavier on her shoulders, and she made her way over to the couch, collapsing down onto it.

"What are you doing here?" She said softly, forcing herself to look over at him again.

"I wanted to ask you something." He replied, his gaze turning dark now with anger, and his voice low, serious.

"What?" He stepped around her desk until he was standing in front of it. Leaning against it, he pulled his hands out of his pockets and crossed them over his chest.

"Why?" Hearing this word fly from his lips caused her to turn away, staring down at the hands clasped in her lap.

"You know why." She evaded his question, hoping that it would be enough to convince him.

"Now, I don't think I do. You say that it's because I'm leaving, or that I could die-" She winced at this, but he kept talking. "-or that it's because I should have told you my feelings earlier. I think that all of those are excuses. This time, it was something a little deeper."

As he spoke, he had come to sit on the coffee table in front of her, arms still folded across his chest. He continued to speak, his words cutting through her. "But that would mean revealing your inner emotions, wouldn't it? Those that you wish will go away if you beat them down hard enough. But they never do, do they? They're always there, just waiting for you to let your guard down so that they may take over. That's the time when you hide away, letting them come over you somewhere private, so that you might not seem weak. But I know you, and I know when there's something swirling beneath the surface that you're trying to hide, and I'm not going to let you." He paused, taking in a breath.

"Fine, Booth. Do you really want to know why I acted that way?" She could feel the anger bubble up in her, but this time she found that she could harness it, keep it under control so that she wouldn't explode in his face again. "I felt it again."

"Felt what?" His expression and tone radiated confusion. She paused for a moment to get herself back in control, and spoke again.

"The same thing that I felt when you were dead." Now it was his turn to wince. "This empty ache that starts in my chest and just continues to spread like some kind of parasite." She could see that her words were affecting him, despite the fact that he tried to hide it.

"Nothing will make it go away." She continued. "I don't know how much time I spent here during those two weeks, but it was never enough. Angela dragged me out of the lab most nights, forcing me to go home and shower, eat, sleep. But that was when it was too much. I'd end up sneaking out of my own apartment after she fell asleep."

"It's the same thing I felt when my parents disappeared. To know that the people you trusted the most had deserted you without any warning. And now you're leaving again." A long pause followed these words, neither person able to come up with anything to say.

"Where's Parker?" She asked, her words slicing through the silence like a knife. "He's not out in your car, is he?"

"No. He's with Rebecca. She said I could have him for the day. I don't suppose you're rescinding your decision?"

"I have to think about it." She said, making her way over to her desk. "I don't know how I feel about everything at the moment."

He moved quickly. She had only the time to turn to face him before he was in front of her, hands placed on the desk on either side of her, effectively trapping her against it. "What's there to think about?" He whispered, his face so close that she could feel his breath brush across her lips.

"Whether or not I'll regret it if you die." She spat, glaring up at him. His eyes darkened with anger again, and for a moment his hands clenched into fists.

"'Tis better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.'" He quoted Alfred Lord Tennyson, and his words momentarily stunned her. It gave him the opening that he was looking for.

He leaned over, capturing her lips in a hard kiss, one that sent shivers up and down her spine, even as she told herself she could not be enjoying this. Her back pressed into the desk, but she barely noticed as she returned his kiss, his fingers becoming tangled in her hair.

"Booth." She managed to gasp out as his lips found their way to her neck. "Booth."

This time, it was a bit more forceful, and he pulled away, taking a step back. Cold air immediately rushed in to replace the warmth of his body, and she involuntarily shivered. "What are we doing?" She whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. "I don't even know what we are to each other anymore. This constant up and down, it's not working. Every time I think that I'm okay with you leaving, and what you told me, I realize that I'm not the moment I see you again. So I lash out at you because I need someone to blame for why I'm feeling this way. And since it seems to me that you are the cause of this whole thing, I find myself blaming you. But it's not your fault. I'm just…I'm just…" Her voice trailed off as she couldn't say the last word. It wasn't like her to just open up like this, but around him, it was almost as if he let her become herself. A person who wasn't afraid to share what she was feeling.

"Afraid." He finished her sentence with what she needed to say, just like he had so many times before.

"Yes. I'm…afraid."

"I don't want you to be afraid." He murmured, stepping towards her again. "I'll be fine."

"I already told you-"

"-that you can't promise something like that, I know." He interjected, finishing her sentence once again.

"Do you think that maybe we could…still go out tonight?" She felt a calm come over her, despite the fact that she could still feel anger burning somewhere in her. She suddenly wanted to spend every moment from now until he left with him, even though only hours before she could barely stand the sight of his face.

"Yeah." He broke out into a grin, and she couldn't stop herself from smiling back. "Seven-thirty sound okay?"

"What are we doing?"

"Isn't that for me to know, and you to find out?" He said teasingly, arms reaching out to encircle her waist. "Although I was going to take you out, I think I'd rather make dinner for you at my place."

"Which means that you won't have to pick me up." She replied, returning his embrace and leaning into him.

"But, Bones-"

"You know full well that I am capable of driving over to your place. If we were going out, it probably would have been a different story." She cocked her head as she thought this over. "Probably."

"Why do you have to act so independent all the time?" He asked, bending his head towards hers until their foreheads touched.

"Because I've been independent for so long that I don't know how to act any other way. Besides, I don't like to think of myself as a woman who needs a man around all the time." She whispered, finding herself caught up in what Angela would call 'the moment', despite her best efforts not to.

"That's why I like you so much." He said, his eyes dancing mischievously. She knew that he had purposely left the word love out. She liked that; despite their time constraints, it would be much simpler if they took everything in steps, even if each step came much more quickly than normal.

"Thanks. It's served me well over the years." He chuckled at this, and she felt what must be a goofy smile spread over her lips. His laughter was infectious, though, and she joined him for a few seconds, all thoughts of his departure gone for at least a little while.

The laughter soon died, however, and his eyes grew intense again with a look she was beginning to recognize. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips nervously as he closed the distance between them, his lips landing softly on hers.

It was everything that the other kiss hadn't been. Sweet, slow, gentle. It was the sort of kiss that started relationships, not ended them. It was one born of an unfulfilled love, not of anger as the one they had shared only a few moments before.

He was careful this time, treading lightly into this uncharted territory. Why didn't we do this earlier?

That was her only thought as his tongue slid over hers. She let herself go; finally, she was able to fully understand what he meant about 'putting her brain into neutral, and popping her heart into overdrive'. There had been some semblance of understanding at her father's murder trial, but nothing like this.

When he finally pulled away, they were both gasping for air, chests heaving.

"You should go." She managed to gasp out, looking at him. "You have to pick Parker up for church."

"What, you're looking to get rid of me after I gave you the best kiss of your life?" He said huskily. "I think I deserve better than that."

"I don't know if it was _the_ best kiss of my life, but…" She let her voice trail off, and he gave her a mock injured look. "It's important for you to have this time with Parker. Besides, I'll be at your house at seven-thirty."

"You could come with us." He said, leaning in for another kiss. She placed her hands on his chest, and pushed him away. He rolled his eyes, and folded his arms over his chest. "I don't like to think of you working here all day, by yourself."

"Trust me." She said, turning to make her way behind her desk, shrugging out of her lab coat. "Somehow, Angela is going to get wind of all this, and she's going to come here and find me. Then, she's going to drag me out to go shopping. So therefore, I won't be here working all day. I'll be with Angela, at the mall." She'd sunk into her desk chair, case file in one hand. The way her face scrunched up when she said the word 'mall' caused him to chuckle again, and she looked up at him with an annoyed expression on her face.

"You don't get it, Booth. If she already has an idea of what she wants you to wear, she will drag you all over the mall until you find it." He just smiled at this, and leaned over to press a kiss to her forehead.

"I'll see you tonight." She smiled back at him, and nodded in agreement.

"I'll be looking forward to it." She said, and he made his way out of her office, pausing in the doorway to look back at her one last time.

"Bye, Bones."

"Goodbye, Booth." She rolled her eyes, but watched him as he made his way out of the lab. She felt a warmth spread through her, and she smiled softly to herself, letting her fingers ghost over her lips. Normally, she wouldn't let herself dwell over such meaningless things as a kiss, but this was different. It was Booth.

Rolling her eyes at herself this time, she turned her attention to the paperwork in front of her. She would see Booth tonight, and as for Angela, who knew how long it would take before she came walking in here? She might as well get some work done before that happened.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: I'm sorry that it took so long for this update, but my grandma passed away, and family was in town for a few days after the funeral, so I was pretty busy. I don't think there's any spoilers in here, and Brennan might be a little OOC. Thank you for all the reviews and favorites! I really appreciate it. Also, I apologize for any wrong information regarding the Catholic church, as I'm not very familiar with their practices.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, and probably never will as it belongs to Fox and Hart Hanson.**

She heard the heels clicking across the lab's floor less than an hour after he left. Sighing, she clicked out of the Word document, which held the latest chapter of her book, and stood, gathering her things. She was slipping into her jacket when Angela appeared in the doorway.

"What did I tell you about Booth?" Angela demanded, eyes flashing. "Do you ever listen to a word I say?"

"Yes." She said, picking up her purse from her desk. "I went back to see him." It wasn't worth it to tell the whole story again. Angela didn't need to know about all that right now; besides, the sooner they got to the mall, the sooner they could get out of there.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you." She walked out of her office, shutting the lights off behind her. Angela followed her after a moment of hesitation, and quickly caught up.

"Waiting for me? Do you think you could explain yourself, this time without leaving out key details?"

"Those don't matter right now. The point is that tonight, Booth's making me dinner." She braced herself for the squeal that she was sure would follow this statement. It didn't, and after a moment, looked over at Angela, who was wearing a perfectly normal expression on her face.

"Did you hear me, Angela?" She asked, pausing. "Booth's making me dinner."

"I heard you. But don't you and Booth do that at least a few nights a week?"

"Yes, I suppose we do, but that's because of a case. This has nothing to do with any case whatsoever." She watched her friend think about this for a moment before a shocked and excited expression spread over her face.

"Oh, Bren!" Angela yelled, throwing her arms around Brennan's neck in a hug that almost had both of them losing their balance. "Thank God you finally realized what I've been telling you all along! Oh, we have to go to the mall. You really need a new outfit."

"I was expecting that." She replied, gently pushing Angela away. "That's why I was waiting for you."

"Well, you could have just told me everything from the beginning." Angela said, digging her car keys out of her purse. "It would have been much easier."

"I thought I made everything clear." Brennan said, her brow furrowing. "Didn't I?"

Angela just laughed at this, and shook her head.

__________________________________________

He knelt in the pew, hands folded together in prayer. Mass was over, but Parker was still in Sunday school, and he needed some time here to himself.

_Dear God, _he began, _please keep her safe while I'm gone. Don't let her get into any trouble; I won't be here to protect her from any murderous criminals. _

He was jolted from his silent prayer when someone slid into the pew next to him, and he knew without even looking over who it was.

"Aren't you supposed to be with Angela?" He asked, turning to look at her.

"I left her in Macy's." She replied, her gaze darting around the church. Her nose wrinkled, as it had the last time he'd taken her here, and her eyes fell on his. "Do they have those burning every time you come here?" She pointed to the candles.

"Yes. And could you lower your voice?"

"There's no one else in here-" His hand clamped over her mouth, and she glared up at him.

"I know you don't believe in this, but I do. And as this is a house of worship, you could at least show some respect." He whispered heatedly, eyes flashing. "How many times do I have to tell you that?"

She reached up to remove his hand from her face, and he made no move to stop her. Intertwining her fingers with his, she scooted closer to him, and laid her head on his shoulder.

"I needed to tell you something." She paused, her voice quieter than before.

"What was so important that you had to come here to tell me?" She turned so that she could look him in the eyes, her grip on his hand tightening.

"I wanted to say I was sorry." When he opened up his mouth to speak, she held up a hand to stop him. "I put you leaving for Iraq, and you dying, in the same category as my parents disappearing, Booth, and that wasn't fair to you. You'd never leave on purpose, and I should have known that, been able to differentiate that. But I was just trying to explain how I felt, and it was the same thing that I felt when my parents disappeared. I didn't mean to lump you into the same category as them, it just happened."

For a moment, he said nothing, just looked at her as he mulled over her words in his mind. "You don't have to apologize for anything. I understand that you didn't mean anything by it, and I know that I would feel the same way if the roles were reversed."

"I can't imagine you as a scientist." She said, shaking her head.

"Bones, it wasn't…you know what, never mind." He chuckled, but when he saw the look in her eyes, the laughter faded away. "Don't even think about it."

"Don't think about what?"

"Kissing me."

"I wasn't about to kiss you, Booth." She said indignantly, glaring at him.

"Yes, you were."

"No, I wasn't."

"Yes."

"No." Before this could go on much longer, he stood, making his way past her and into the aisle.

"Look, I have to get Parker from Sunday school, and you have to get back to Macy's before Angela calls the cops."

"You are the cops." Hearing this, he rolled his eyes, and began walking down the aisle to the lobby. She jumped up, and quickly followed him.

"Can I kiss you now?" She asked after they had made their way into the lobby.

"Oh, so you were going to kiss me before. Why didn't you just admit it?"

She put her hands on her hips and looked up at him with a defiant expression on her face. "Because that would mean admitting defeat, and I don't do that."

"No, you don't. You really should go." He said, placing a hand on her arm, and gently shoving her toward the door. "You'll see me tonight at seven. Besides, Angela will kick your ass for running off on her like this." The word slipped out before he could stop it.

"Agent Booth." He heard the voice behind him, and knew it instantly. Sighing, he turned around to find Father Hartwick walking quickly toward him.

"It just slipped out, Father." He said, bowing his head to look at his feet. Even after all these years, any prominent member of the church could still make him feel ashamed.

"I understand. Where did Dr. Brennan go?" He asked, gesturing towards where she had been standing only a moment before.

"I…uh, I don't know." Booth answered, confused by her rapid departure. Then, another thought occurred to him that was even more puzzling than her departure. "How do you know Bones?"

"Ah, is that what you call her? Although she would probably not wish for me to tell you this, she came to see me after your death."

"Why?" There was no reason for her to go see a priest. She thought that religion was merely a story; that, as it couldn't be proven, it couldn't possibly exist.

"She had a question. She considered me an 'expert' in this field, and therefore, the one best prepared to answer her question. But as for any other information, I think it's better that you find out that from her."

At that moment, Parker's Sunday school class let out. Caught up in his son's excited stream of words, he didn't notice that the priest had left.

__________________________________________________

"Angela, aren't we done yet?" She said, collapsing down into a chair in the shoe department. "We've been here for hours."

"Correction. I've been here for three hours, while you ran off and had me worried sick for an hour, going to see Booth in church. Now, would you quit complaining? You don't even have to do anything but sit there." She bustled away to begin looking through the many rows of shoes set out, and Brennan sighed. This _was not_ her idea of a good time.

The two hours she'd spent with her best friend had been productive, at least in regards to her outfit. Angela had picked out a beige sundress, which she was excited to find that the color didn't totally wash Brennan out, whatever that meant. It had some kind of floral design on it, really more of an abstract one, as Angela had put it. Brennan had to admit that it did fit her extremely well, but she wasn't sure if it was _her._ Ugh, now she was wading into something like psychology, but what would Booth think? Wouldn't he be imagining something a little more…subdued? He _was_ only making her dinner.

"Angela?" She said, wandering over to where her friend was browsing. "Can I ask you something?"

"If it's something along the lines of when we're leaving, no. Other than that, ask away."

"Do you think the dress is something I would wear?" She asked, a somewhat nervous expression appearing on her face even though she tried to hide it. "Do you think Booth will like it?"

"Brennan, while it's not something you would ever pick out for yourself, yes, it does look like 'you'. And Booth will love it." Angela grinned wickedly, her eyes lighting up. "That reminds me. You need some new underwear."

"Ang-"

"Don't 'Ang' me. Don't you want to get some new stuff? Stuff that Booth will go crazy over?"

"First of all, I don't think Booth will 'go crazy' over anything. Secondly, I suppose some new underwear would be nice, as long as we can get something to eat first. Being stuck in this store has made me realize how hungry I am." Angela smiled at her, and nodded her head.

"We can eat first-there's nothing wrong with that. But I'm going to help you get ready tonight."

"You really don't have to. I am perfectly capable of dressing myself." She retorted, knowing that Angela would spend at least an hour on her hair and makeup.

"Sweetie, I have to. You're finally getting together with Booth, and you have to look your best."

"Fine." Brennan spun on her heel and made her way over to where she'd been previously sitting. It was going to be a long day.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Well, we've finally reached Booth and Brennan's date night. It didn't turn out anything like I planned it to be, after I wrestled with writer's block for what felt like forever, and it's a bit angsty. Brennan might be a little OOC. Thank you to all of those who've put on alert, favorited or reviewed this story. I really appreciate it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, and I never will. It belongs to Fox and Hart Hanson. **

She raised a fist, and knocked on his door. Thankfully, the strange nervousness she had felt for a moment in the store had passed, and she was back to feeling more like herself.

"It's open!" He yelled, and the knob turned easily in her grasp. She stepped into the tiny foyer, pausing to hang up her light jacket and purse, while slipping out of the slightly-too-small heels that Angela had insisted would go perfectly. She usually didn't have a problem with wearing heels, but these were already giving her blisters, and she'd only spent a few minutes in them.

She stepped around the corner to find him at the stove, dressed simply in a form-fitting black long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His dark jeans hung on his hips as he puttered around the kitchen, seeming to do a million things at once. She noticed that his feet were bare; his characteristic 'crazy' socks were nowhere to be seen.

"Need any help?" She asked, leaning the wall in the doorway to his kitchen. Her voice startled him, and he spun around, a lasagna noodle dangling from one hand.

"Is it seven-thirty already?" He seemed embarrassed that she'd found him in such a state, and yet he still stood there staring at her. Finding herself a little uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny, she walked up to him and plucked the noodle from his hand, ripping off a piece and throwing it in her mouth. She ignored his "Bones!", and continued chewing.

"Hmm…you did a good job with the noodles. It's not overcooked or chewy. Perhaps a little bland, but I'm assuming that you're not planning on serving them plain." She said, only to have him snatch the rest of it back. "Booth! I wasn't finished with that."

"I know. But since you said that it was a little bland, why don't you try it with the sauce?" He now offered it to her, one end almost dripping with the red sauce.

"Don't you want me to be surprised?" She asked, taking it from him. A little bit of the sauce fell onto her palm, and she stared down at her hand, the redness already spreading over her skin, sinking into it. Just as it had before…so much red.

_The blood had long since dried on her hands, turning them a faint red color. Angela had tried to get her to go to the bathroom, wash her hands, but she'd refused. It had taken everything she had to get here; she couldn't move. She just kept staring down at her hands, stained in his blood._

"So much blood…" She whispered, the pasta falling from her grasp. She heard him take a step towards her, felt a hand go out to her arm to steady her, but she couldn't take her eyes of her palm. "There was so much blood…"

"Bones?" His tone was concerned, and she raised her head to meet his gaze. His eyes were troubled; his mouth in a firm line, but suddenly everything seemed to change.

She could see him again, lying there in front of her, the blood draining out of the wound in his chest. Then it changed again, back to the desert in her dream, with the wound in his side, clotted blood under her fingers.

The room spun for a second, everything topsy-turvy and unsteady under her feet. What was going on with her? This wasn't how she was supposed to act, how she was supposed to feel.

"Bones?" She could hear him again, but it was though it was coming through a dense fog. She needed to get it off; wash away this physical reminder of what he'd gone through for her.

Her breathing was coming more quickly as she tried to get enough air. Her chest felt heavy, like it had that night, once she realized that he was never coming back. This was irrational, this response she was having. She knew that it was just sauce, tomato, for his lasagna. But yet, it wasn't.

Was she going crazy? This had never happened before.

She made her way over to his sink, flipping on his faucet with her forearm. Squirting some of the soap into her hand, she began to scrub.

_She stood in the public bathroom, in the hospital, hands stuck under a roaring stream of water that was much too hot. She was surely exhausting the soap supply with the amounts she was using, but that didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was getting his blood off of her hands._

"Bones!" He grabbed her, spun her around to face him. Her hands dripped hot water and soap onto the floor in between them. "What's wrong?"

She realized she was shaking in his grasp, and when she spoke, her voice was unsteady. "I-I don't know. I really don't know." Just that, for no reason at all, the sauce suddenly changed into his blood.

"All right. Here, Bones, you're dripping." He grabbed a towel off the counter and began drying her hands.

"I can do it myself, Booth." She snapped, wrenching the towel from his hands. "I'm not incompetent, you know."

"I know. I just wanted to help." He said, turning back to the stove. "You don't want dinner anymore, do you?"

"No. I don't." Her appetite had been wiped away by whatever had happened to her.

"Yeah, me neither." She heard him sigh, and guilt rose up in her chest. He'd made dinner and everything, and now she'd ruined it. What else had she ruined in the past two days? His admission that he had to go to Iraq, his confession of love, and now the date that he'd been so happy she'd accepted after rejecting (after accepting) it the first time.

"I'm sorry, Booth." She murmured, still holding his dishtowel. He took it from her hands and threw it up on the counter, his arm coming to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her close to him.

"It's fine, Bones. I'm flexible." She turned until she could wrap her arms around his waist, and he returned her embrace, resting his head on top of hers. This was definitely more than a 'guy hug' now, she thought to herself as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

Although she supposed they were never really 'guy hugs' in the first place.

"Do you think we could just watch a movie?" She asked, raising her head until her gaze met his. His eyes relaxed, and the corners of his mouth flexed up into a smile. "And can I choose it this time?"

"Of course." He said, leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Of course."

___________________________________________________________

They sat on his couch, the documentary she'd brought over to his house once, but never watched, long over. He had groaned when she chose it, but she'd reminded him of his promise, and he'd conceded.

Now, she was practically in his lap, and he was running his fingers up and down her arm. It would have been distracting if she'd been trying to think, but for once, she decided to take his advice and let her brain shut down and her heart take over. It was nice, this not thinking or talking. Very relaxing.

"Bones?" He asked, his voice loud in the silence of the room. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes." She replied, shifting so that she could lay her head on his chest, and he could wrap one arm around her waist.

"Bones, you can't get much closer than this." He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head this time.

"Was that your question? It didn't sound like one, and besides, maybe I do want to get closer." She retorted. He chuckled again, and she sighed in annoyance. "Are you going to ask me something or not, Booth?"

"All right, all right." He said. "Why did you go see Father Hartwick?" She stiffened in his embrace, and pulled away.

"He told you." She stated, turned away from him. "I told him not to tell you."

"Why, though? He's a priest, and you…you don't believe in all that."

"I know he's a priest, Booth." She snapped, pushing away his hand as he reached for her. "Do you want the truth?"

"Would I get anything else from you?" She looked over at him, eyes flashing. He held up his hands in apology, a sheepish look appearing on his face. "Sorry."

"It was stupid, irrational." She sighed, the anger gone from her eyes to be replaced by something close to sorrow. "It was one of the low points I had when you were _dead_. Why are you making me tell you this?" She had hoped that he would never learn about this, but as he attended church quite regularly, she should have figured that he would have found out about it at some point.

"Because I want to know."

"Because you want to know?" She said in disbelief, brow furrowing. "I should tell you something like this just because you want to know. I don't get to choose whether I should tell you something or not? That's ridiculous, Booth, and you should know that."

"I just want to understand why you would do something so out of character like that."

"If I tell you, will you stop asking me things like this?" She didn't wish for him to hear this, how weak she'd been, but as long as he would stop asking questions like this, she supposed it was worth it.

"Yes." He replied, and she sighed.

"I wanted to know if you made it to heaven." She whispered, looking down at her feet. "And of course he couldn't tell me for sure. Just gave me some stupid, textbook reassurance that everyone had been giving me for the past week."

"You wanted to know if I made it to heaven? You don't believe in heaven."

"I told you, it was one of the low points. You have no idea what it was like to wake up every day and realize that the most important person in your life was gone. Booth, you might think that I had nightmares, or that I barely slept, but neither of those things are true. When I slept, I dreamt of you. Like when you were alive, when everything was still fine. It was horrible to wake up and realize every single time that nothing was ever going to be the same. And it was making me crazy. For a little while, the thought of seeing you again in another life was very comforting."

"But after the priest gave me his answer, I seemed to wake up, and begin thinking rationally again. There was no heaven; I would never see you again, and that was that." She finished, surprised to find tears coursing down her cheeks. He reached out to her again, and this time she let him pull her into his arms. "I just wanted to see you again."

"I'm sorry, Temperance." He murmured, his thumbs absently tracing circles on her back.

"I suppose that's why I was so angry about you going to Iraq. You could die over there, Booth, and I already know what it's like to live like that; without you. And I never want to have to go through that again."

"I know. I promise you won't have to." She pulled away, and he knew that she was about to retort with her 'you can't promise something like that' speech. But he didn't let her.

His lips fell to hers in a kiss that was soft, yet filled with a passion that he had so far restrained. Not that he wanted to keep it restrained much longer.

He pulled away first, his breathing heavy. She held his gaze, her eyes filled with an unfamiliar question.

"Will you make love to me?" She whispered, her words like music to his ears. How long he had waited, and dreamed to hear those words, but never really expected them to fall from her lips.

"Of course." He replied, just as quietly, and leaned in to begin to show her that love really did exist.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: I'm so sorry that I haven't updated in a while, but after fighting with writer's block, tension headaches that I thought were something more serious (which just made them worse because I was worrying about it so much), and cross country practice two-a-days, I didn't really feel like writing. The next chapter might be a little while, too, as I'm leaving for cross country camp tomorrow, and won't get home until Thursday. Thanks to all those who've put this on alert, favorited, or reviewed. It really means a lot, and I appreciate it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, Fox and Hart Hanson do, and I probably never will.**

There was so much left to say, to do. The time they'd had together like this had been too short; there'd been no time to just relax and enjoy his company. Enjoy continuing down on this journey that they had just begun several hours before.

Her eyes fell once again to the digital clock on his nightstand. It read three twenty-one in the morning, only five minutes later than when she'd last looked.

Although they'd stayed up until well past midnight, she found that she couldn't sleep. Even with not sleeping the night before, her body refused to comply with her wishes. It figured that, when she finally decided that she wanted to fall asleep, she couldn't.

He'd fallen asleep soon after she said they should get some sleep, and was still asleep now, oblivious to her struggle. His face was buried in her hair, and one arm was wrapped protectively around her waist.

Even though she would be the first one to say that she didn't enjoy 'snuggling', she knew that it simply wasn't true. There was something about being held…despite how hard she tried to deny it, she liked it. It made her feel like she meant something to the person she was with.

If only Booth could hear her now. He'd probably say something about her meaning something to every guy she'd ever been with, that they wouldn't have slept with her if she didn't mean something to them.

His explanation was naïve, and yet somewhat hopeful. She would have liked to believe that she'd meant something to every man she'd gone to bed with, but that was simply not the case. There were simply too many outliers and exceptions to that explanation, at least in her mind.

She rolled over, and he stirred. She froze for a second, not wanting to wake him. He needed his sleep, no matter what was going on with her.

However, any fears she had of him waking were soon assuaged as he fell back into his sleep. Even in the dark, she could make out the familiar contours of his face. Features that she probably knew better than her own, considering she spent more time looking at him than at her own face in the mirror.

His expression was peaceful, the corners of his mouth lifted into a barely perceptible smile. She felt her own lips curve upward into a small smile, even as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

It had been easy to forget that he was leaving so soon, considering that there had, at first, been two full days before he was due to step on that plane. But now that time had shrunken into mere hours, and she was finding it very difficult to push those thoughts aside. She didn't want to dwell on that fact, but nothing else she thought of could completely wipe those thoughts from her mind.

Sighing, she wriggled slowly out of his embrace, and stood. After pulling on her (new) underwear and the long-sleeved shirt he'd been wearing, she made her way into the living room.

Even though she realized that she was probably acting more like a teenage girl than a world famous forensic anthropologist and author, she still didn't take it off. It was the most logical decision, right? She didn't want to have to pull on that sundress again, and tying the knot behind her neck would be too much to bother with right now. It was late, and she was tired.

More like exhausted. The emotional roller coaster his news had sent them on had stressed her out more than she cared to admit, and that was combined with little sleep in over thirty-six hours, although it was inching closer to forty-eight with every minute that went by.

Bypassing the couch to get a glass of water, she was too engrossed in her thoughts to notice that he'd gotten up after her.

It was only after he slid his arms around her waist that she became aware of his presence. The sudden contact made her jump, and half of her water ended up staining one of the sleeves of his shirt, the rest hitting the sink in front of her.

"Little jumpy there, Bones?" He said when she'd set her glass down onto the counter, and without turning around, reached for his dishtowel. He sighed, sliding his arms from her waist. "What are you doing awake, anyway?"

"What do you think, Booth? I couldn't sleep." She retorted, wrapping the towel around her arm in an attempt to soak up some of the excess liquid. "And the last time I checked, you weren't awake."

"Ah, c'mon, don't be like that." He replied, leaning against the counter next to her.

When she looked over at him, she found that his arms were folded over his chest, his gaze trained on the wall in front of him. She could see a troubled expression beginning to form on his face, and she sighed.

"Next time, you might want to say something first." She said, the corners of her mouth lifting into a weak smile.

"I'll try to remember that." He gave her his own version of her weak smile, but she noticed that tears appeared to be forming in his eyes. She knew that if he fell apart, she'd follow soon after, and one of them needed to be strong. She willed herself not to cry; yet she could already feel her own tears forming.

"Booth?" She said quietly, questioning. "What's wrong?" He exhaled loudly at this, and looked away.

"What's wrong is that I have to leave you, Parker, everyone I know, and go back over there. Parker will be fine, you know, 'cause he has Rebecca, but you? Who's going to look after you now? You get kidnapped nearly more than I do. You-you…" His voice cracked, trailing off.

"I'll be fine." She said, watching as his gaze bounced around the room before finally landing on her.

"Promise me, Temperance. Promise me that you'll be careful." He reached out, and placing both hands on her hips, pulled her to him.

"I promise I'll be careful." She murmured into his chest, her words muffled.

"Good." His voice was choked with emotion, and when he placed two fingers under her chin to raise her head so that she would meet his gaze, she found that tears were running down his cheeks.

"Oh, Booth-" That was as far as she got, as his lips crashed down on hers before she could say another word. He kissed her more passionately than he had even last night, and she could taste the salt from his tears.

Pretty soon, she was crying as much as he was, and they broke apart, chests heaving. He leaned over, resting his forehead against hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself even closer to him than she already was.

Their breath mingled in the space between them, and for a few moments, only the sound of light sobbing broke the silence in the room.

"Make love to me again." She said, her voice loud in the encompassing silence. "I want to remember everything."

"Don't talk like that, Bones. I'll be fine."

"You never know, Booth. Anything could happen." He didn't bother replying to that, just let his lips fall to hers in a kiss that was gentle, slow, and sweet, a sharp contrast to the ones they'd shared earlier that night, and just a few moments before.

Moments later, she lay next to him, the sheets tangled up around them. She looked up at him, and he smiled softly down at her.

"Go to sleep, Bones." He whispered, tenderly brushing a lock of hair from her face. "I'll still be here when you wake up."

Even though the last thing she wanted to do was fall asleep, she closed her eyes and curled up against him. There were only a few hours left before they had to get up, and there was nothing more she wanted to do than spend every minute, awake, with him, but even she knew that she needed her sleep.

"Good night, Booth." She murmured, her voice quavering slightly.

"'Night, Bones." His breathing soon evened, and hers followed, sending them both into a calm, dark sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Once again, I apologize for the lack of updating, but school started, and with that comes homework. Lots of it. So, updates may be a little slow over the next few months, or longer. I'm sorry. Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and alerts! It really means a lot.**

**Disclaimer: Bones belongs to Fox, not to me, and most likely never will.**

_She was being chased along a trail in the middle of a forest. It was pitch-black, and she could barely see half a foot in front of her face, but she somehow knew that he was in front of her. There was something wrong about this; he should have been right next to her, his hand in hers, pulling her along so that if whoever was following them caught them, that person couldn't hurt her. He should be right there to protect her._

_The heavy breathing coming from behind her was getting closer, and she felt, rather than saw, that the trees on either side of the trail were getting closer. Branches were whipping at her from either side, and she knew that soon she would have to slow down to pick her way through to find her way without running into something. Her only consolation was that whoever was chasing her would have to slow down too._

_But the footsteps behind her didn't slow, and neither did the ones in front of her. What was going on? _

"_Booth!" She screamed as she forced herself back into a running pace, despite the fact that she was now in the middle of a dense patch of trees. The heavy breathing was almost exactly behind her now, and she tripped, an exposed root halting her escape. She fell to the ground, and closed her eyes, waiting for the fatal blow, but nothing came. _

_The silence of the forest had been replaced by the panicked noise of many people clustered together, and she opened her eyes to find that she was lying on the ground in the middle of a too-bright airport. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, squinting as her eyes struggled to adjust after the darkness of the forest. She looked down to see that she was covered in dirt, like she had tripped, but had somehow been transported here instead. What was going on? Her mind echoed as she stood, wincing a little as she put her weight down on her left ankle. She must have sprained it when she fell._

_A huge mass of people were gathered in front of the windows that looked out onto the runway, and she began to make her way, slowly, over to them. She was forced into stopping, however, when Angela ran up to her with a solemn expression on her face._

"_Sweetie, what happened to you?" Her friend's expression changed to one of concern when she noticed the dirt staining her clothes. "I thought you said that you were just going to the bathroom."_

"_Yes, of course." She shrugged off Angela's question, and leaned over to try and peer around her. "Ang, what's going on?" She asked, when she met her eyes and saw that a mixture of horror, disbelief, and grief had replaced the concern that was there only seconds before._

"_You might want to sit down." Angela said, leading her over to a chair. She sank down into it, and Angela plopped down into the one next to her. "Look, Brennan, the plane…it was landing, coming down the runway, and all of a sudden…all of a sudden, it just…exploded."_

_It felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. It was his plane. He'd been returning from Iraq, and the plane…the plane…_

"_Brennan? Brennan, are you all right?" Angela was peering into her face, and she bent her head to look down at the floor._

"_That's not true, Angela. That can't be true." She was still speaking to the ground, and a small portion of her just knew, but she couldn't believe it. He'd made it through six months in Iraq. He couldn't be gone now. Not again._

"_Maybe you should look outside." Angela said quietly, and stood up, holding out her hand to Brennan. She took it, and Angela led her through the crowd with a mixture of "Excuse me" and "Coming through", which was enough to earn them a good view. And what she saw in front of her was unbelievable._

_The plane was in pieces, which littered the runway, still burning despite the firefighter's best efforts to put out the blaze. Tears filled her eyes, and she began to breathe heavily, gasping for air as though there was none left in the world._

"_Ang…I have to go." She managed to gasp out before she turned and shoved her way through the crowd, pushing through until she was back out into the clear portion of the airport. _

_And she ran until she found an exit, throwing it open and dashing out before she realized that she was back in that forest, being chased by some invisible enemy._

_And so she ran…_

Her eyes flung open, and she quickly took in her surroundings in the half-light of early dawn. She was at home, in her bed, not out there in the middle of the woods. She told herself this over and over, but she still trembled, and she found that she was covered in a cold sweat.

And he's okay, Brennan, she thought to herself. You just saw him take off yesterday.

But it wasn't the takeoff that had been jeopardized; it was the landing.

Shaking her head to rid herself of that horrible thought, she sat up, pulling the blankets around her. Looking over at the clock, she saw that it was seven-thirty in the morning. If she was still scheduled to meet his replacement (the word made her shudder involuntarily, as the images from her dream were still so fresh) at nine, she had to get up out of bed and get herself ready.

But she was loath to move, and so she lay back down, dragging the blankets up to her chin, despite the fact that it soon became unbearably hot. She stared over at the empty spot next to her, and sighed. Here she was, turning into some weak woman, pining away for the man who had left her to defend his country only the day before. But that didn't change the fact that she missed him.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

She stepped through the doors of the Medico-Legal lab at the Jeffersonian at 8:59 in the morning. Despite the fact that this would be on time for most people, it was nearly over an hour late for her. She liked getting to the lab no later than eight; most of the other employees didn't show up until at least eight-thirty, so she had nearly the whole lab to herself for a while before it began bustling with activity again.

Today, however, it had taken a little more than the promise of an empty workplace to get here. There was no chance that he was going to be here, with coffee and a new case file, waiting in her office, or arriving later to take her out to lunch. It also didn't help that she was being forced to meet a new agent today; couldn't they have waited at least until there was a new case?

She made her way through the lab towards her office, hoping that this agent was late. She didn't know if she was up to dealing with someone who was surely going to be disappointed and angry that he had to work with a bunch of squints for six months.

She walked through the door to her office to find him sitting in the chair across from her desk. He was flipping through one of the many books she kept on her coffee table, and didn't seem to have noticed her come in. Cam had sent him here?

She must have sighed or something, because he closed the book he'd been holding, and got to his feet.

"Special Agent Aaron Douglas." He introduced himself, holding out his hand for her to shake. She did, and he sank back down into the chair in front of her desk as she hung up her coat and purse.

He was tall, taller than Booth, but not by much, maybe only one or two inches, with blue eyes and blond air. And although she felt extremely annoyed that he was here, sitting in her office, touching her things (couldn't he have left the book alone?), there was something about him that made her feel almost immediately at ease.

"Do you always barge into other people's offices when they're not there and read their books?" She asked, sitting down and pulling out a manila folder from the pile on her desk.

"Not usually, but my meeting with Dr. Saroyan ended early, and it was either wait in there while she did an autopsy, or wait in here. I got bored, so I decided to read. Is it really that much of a problem?" He smiled easily, and she had to fight a smile of her own.

"Yes, it is. Now, do you have a case or something? I have work to do." She scribbled her signature on the last form in the case file, and set it aside.

"Of course you do." He stood, drumming his knuckles on the edge of her desk. "I'll just come by if we get a case."

"Fine." She replied, never raising her head from the next case file.

When she heard him leave, she leaned back in her chair and sighed. It wasn't supposed to be like this; he was supposed to be obnoxious and annoying, someone she could hardly stand to be around for more than five seconds. But he wasn't, or at least didn't seem to be, and she certainly wasn't supposed to find him attractive.

Especially since Booth had flown out to Iraq less than twenty-four hours before.

These were the thoughts that were swirling around in her head when Angela burst into her office a few minutes later.

"Did you see him?" She looked over to see her best friend framed in her doorway, her arms wrapped around a manila folder of her own. "Geez, Sweetie, he's like a mixture of Anderson Cooper and Aaron Eckhart."

"I don't know what that means." Brennan replied, sitting up to shuffle some of the papers around on her desk.

"Of course you don't." She watched as Angela plopped down into the chair opposite her. "But he even came and introduced himself to me. How crazy is that? Even Booth hated us at the beginning."

"Maybe Booth threatened him with bodily harm if he wasn't nice to us."

"No, Bren, that would only be you."

"You don't know that, and besides, he probably just wanted to make a good first impression." She leaned back in her chair, and crossed her arms over her chest.

"None of the other agents ever cared about that before." Angela pointed out.

"Fine, Angela!" She threw up her hands. "He's perfect! Even though you only met him for two seconds, now he can do no wrong." She was breathing heavily, and her brow furrowed as she sent a glare towards Angela. "Booth hasn't even been gone for twenty-four hours yet."

"Brennan, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"Well, that's what it sounded like. Like you're so excited that Booth's gone, you're going to go out and throw a party for this new agent."

"I wasn't planning on doing that, and you know it. You're not the only one who misses him."

"You're certainly not acting like you miss him." Brennan retorted, feeling (irrationally) angrier by the second.

"Well, I do, even if you don't believe me. I was just trying to say that it might not be as bad as you think-as we all think. Oh, and by the way, it's not wrong for you to find him attractive." Angela stood, making her way over to the doorway.

"That's not what's bothering me."

Angela smiled a knowing smile, and shook her head. "I've known you for over ten years now, Bren. I know when something's bothering you, and it's not just because you miss him."

"Yes, it is." She insisted, but Angela just gave her another smile, and walked out of the office.

Brennan sighed again, for what felt like the tenth time in as many minutes, and stood, reaching for her labcoat. Angela was right about one thing; something was bothering her. But it wasn't because she felt attracted to Aaron Douglas. While it had bothered her at first, she knew that, although she may be with Booth, she would undoubtedly find other men attractive. It was simply inevitable.

No, it was because Angela had been wearing the same exact outfit she'd been wearing in her dream last night.

And Booth had died.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: I am so sorry for the lack of updates! I didn't mean for this chapter to take this long, but with school and sports (which are now over, so I have more time) and a case of writer's block (of course, it's only for this story), it did. And I apologize. I'm also moving into a little bit of a case now, which I've never done before, so it might take a little longer. But Thanksgiving break is coming up, so Chap 15 should be up by then, or a little after. Thanks for the patience, along with the reviews, favorites and alerts! It means so much. Wendell, being my favorite will be the intern here, and as it seems to me that Brennan doesn't actually seem to retrieve the remains, instead lets the FBI people do it, she won't do it in this story. Hope she's not too OOC.**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Bones, Fox does. This is just for fun.**

It had been exactly two weeks since he had left, and she was sitting in her office, filling out paperwork related to a Jane Doe from Bone Storage. Not the most exciting thing in the world, but it was better than trying to work on her book. Her inspiration appeared to have dried up, at least for the moment.

Putting her final signature at the bottom of the last page, she closed the file and pushed it aside. Leaning forward, she let her head rest in her hands. Another headache was forming at her temples, and it was only eleven.

"Dr. Brennan?" She heard the agent's voice, and looked up to find him framed in her doorway, case file in one hand. "We have a case."

"Okay." She replied, sighing.

"Are you all right?" He asked, stepping into the room, his face expressing concern. "Do you want me to go to Dr. Saroyan, or…"

"No, it's just a headache. Besides, the bodies come to me." She stood, reaching around to grab her coat off the coat rack. She slid it on, missing the way Booth would help her with it.

"Okay." He rocked back on his heels, arms crossed over his chest, clearly uncomfortable.

"You can wait in the car. I just have to grab my things." He nodded once, and turned, heading out of her office.

* * *

It was at least an hour to the crime scene, and she'd finished reading the case file before they got on the highway. There were only scarce details included; a pile of bones had been found in the woods, and the local police had called for extra assistance, as the coroner was currently on vacation in California. And the remains were bones. This was made very clear from their statements, at least from what Agent Douglass had filled her in on.

Now, ten minutes into the trip, the car was filled with an uncomfortable silence. She was staring out the window, head propped up on one fist, wishing that she had taken some Motrin before she'd left. Her headache was quickly worsening, and a quick search of her bag had turned up nothing.

"Dr. Brennan? Would you mind if I asked you something…personal?" He broke the silence, and she lifted her head to look over at him.

"Most people just ask, but it depends. You can ask, but I probably won't answer." She replied, turning her attention back to the view outside the window.

"Is it true that you and Agent Booth are sleeping together?" She rolled her eyes, and kept her gaze focused out the window when she answered.

"I don't think that that's really any of your business." She replied, her tone icy.

"Right. I was just…curious. I normally work in Terrorism, doing the legwork for the local intelligence team. I guess they're the equivalent of you and your team, just chained to desks and computers."

"Then what are you doing in Homicide?" She demanded, looking over at him with an incredulous expression. "Why didn't the FBI send someone from Homicide? Surely you don't have the experience necessary to work these cases."

"Dr. Brennan, you don't know anything about me." He briefly glanced at her before turning his attention back to the road, just enough time to send an irritated look her way. "For your information, I started off in Homicide with Agent Booth, and was transferred a few years later. The reason they didn't send anyone from that division is that you've managed to _piss off_ almost every agent, and after what they've heard, scare the crap out of the new ones. So you're stuck with me-an incompetent agent from the Terrorism division."

"Fine. But why'd they send you?"

"First, because I've had experience in this field, and second, because Agent Booth requested me." His tone was icy now, and his jaw was clenched.

"Why did he request you?"

"Maybe because I'm the only one he thought could deal with you for six months. Look, I don't know why he requested me, he just did."

"Then why'd you accept?"

"I thought it would be a nice change of pace. Something different."

"A nice change of pace? You're going to be chasing down killers. It's a little more difficult than what you're used to." The conversation stagnated then, as he didn't choose to respond to that. She focused her attention on the woods flying past outside the window, thankful that there were only ten more minutes left in this trip.

* * *

"Female, approximately 18-25 years of age." She stood up and looked over the edge of the pit, surprised to see that he was taking notes. "Won't have time or cause of death until I can examine the remains and get bug and soil samples to Hodgins." She pulled off her white latex gloves with a snap, and looked over at the remains. "And tell your techs they can start the retrieval and send the remains to the Jeffersonian."

"Don't you retrieve the remains?" He asked, tucking the small notebook into the inside pocket of his suit coat.

"No, the FBI believes that their techs can do a better job, even though I'm a trained forensic anthropologist."

"Oh, I didn't…know that."

"Of course you didn't." She looked up at him with an annoyed expression on her face. "Don't you have a ladder or something I can use to get out of here?"

"No, I was just going to let you climb out yourself." He replied sarcastically. "Of course I have a ladder. It's just not here yet."

"I don't know what that means." He sighed and rolled his eyes.

"It means that I sent a tech to go get one."

"Well, then, what's taking so long?" She sighed in frustration and glared up at him.

"How the hell am I supposed to know?"

"Didn't you figure that I would need a ladder to get out of here?"

"Maybe I just wanted to leave you down there all day." He smiled wryly. "It's getting kind of chilly. I think I'm going to wait in the car."

"You can't just leave me down here!" She yelled out after him.

"I'm not. I can see your ladder coming this way now." He threw out over his shoulder as he walked away.

She had to wait another five minutes before the tech came (leisurely) walking up with the ladder over one shoulder. After grabbing her things and climbing out of the pit, sending a glare the tech's way while she was at it, she began to make her way back to the SUV.

As she walked down the barely-there trail towards the maintenance road where they had parked, she found that Agent Douglass had been right—it was getting a little chilly. Pulling her light jacket closer to herself, she continued.

About ten minutes later, the trees began to thin, and she could see the outline of his SUV. Not particularly thrilled with the thought of another uncomfortable ride with Agent Douglass, she took her time placing her things in the back.

"So, I see you did manage to find your way out of that pit after all." He said when she climbed into the passenger's seat.

"Yes, I did. Now, can we get back to the Jeffersonian? I have work to do."

"Isn't that all you ever do?" He asked, pulling off the side of the road. "From what I've heard…"

"At least I'm doing something valuable with my time." She shot back, her gaze focused on the scenery passing outside her window.

"What, identifying bodies that have been dead for years when you're not on cases? How is that something valuable?"

"I'm giving them back a face, a name. You're just trying to figure out whether some guy is a threat or not."

"I'm working to keep the country safe."

"Of course you are. Fighting terrorists that may, or may not, exist." He fell into a stony silence then, and she sighed again, turning her attention away from him.

"How can people stand to work with you?" He said softly a few minutes later. "I'm serious, how can they, when you act like…_this_?" It almost sounded more as if he was speaking to himself, but when he briefly glanced at her, she realized that he expected an answer.

Evading his question, she responded with one of her own. "How did no one notice that there was a large pit in the middle of the woods? And for so long?" Even as she asked this, she knew the answer was obvious. It was all very similar to the Hastings case she and Booth had worked a few years ago; except this time, there was no legend of a headless witch…and this body had come complete with a skull.

"These woods aren't traveled very often, even during hunting season. Even the trails that exist aren't very well marked, and most people don't venture in very far. They either don't have time, or are worried that they will get lost. That's how."

"Oh. Right."

"You didn't answer my question, Dr. Brennan." He gave her a pointed look, and she took a deep breath.

"I've never had to explain myself before."

"Well, now I'm asking for an explanation. Would you care to grace me with it?"

"No."

"Fine. But, you do realize that two can play at that game?"

"I don't know what that means, but it sounds like it could possibly be immature." She shook her head in confusion.

"I'm not the immature one."

"That statement in and of itself is immature! And you're implying that I'm immature?"

"Yes. You're upset because your beloved partner is gone to Iraq, and you're taking it out on me. How's that for immature?"

"He's not my beloved partner." She murmured, looking down at her hands, clasped in her lap. "He's just my partner." She hated the sadness that crept into her voice as she spoke this half-truth.

"Look, hey, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-" She cut him off before he could continue.

"I just don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"Okay." He reached out and switched on the radio. It was set to a soft rock station, and the music flowing out of it was familiar. Too familiar.

"_Keep on tryin', to get home to you." _ Douglass was singing softly under his breath to the song, and she cringed at how wrong it sounded. _He_ was_ not_ supposed to be the one singing along with it.

Not caring if she looked immature or not, she turned the radio off. He looked over at her in shock, and she hid the tears in her eyes by looking out the passenger side window.

"Dr. Brennan?" His voice was soft, concerned.

"Is it all right if we just don't listen to anything?" She asked, pretending to brush a lock of hair away from her face when she was really wiping away a delinquent tear.

"Sure. And…I'm sorry about how I acted." She could tell by the tone of his voice that he knew more about how she was feeling than what he let on. She clenched her jaw, not wanting his sympathy.

"Thanks." She managed to get out through gritted teeth.

It was just a song. What the hell was wrong with her? She couldn't stop remembering that day at the diner; it was running through her mind like a broken record. How he sat across from her, battered and bruised from his latest kidnapping, and got her to sing along with him to a song she hadn't heard or thought of in years. How earlier, she'd asked her father for help to save him. How relieved she had felt when she saw him lying there on the ground, still alive, even if he was bloody and bruised. How, irrationally, she didn't want him to leave when he walked her up to her apartment later.

How she'd wanted one of those 'guy hugs', but was too afraid to ask for one.

"Dr. Brennan? We're at the Jeffersonian." The sound of his voice startled her, and she looked over at him.

"Already?"

"Yeah. Are you all right?" There was that concerned tone in his voice again, and he had a concerned look on his face to match it this time.

"What?" Her hand immediately went up to her face, and to her horror, found that her cheek was wet with tears. "Yeah, I'm fine. This is my copy, right?" She said, picking up a manilla folder.

"Yes. Do you-"

"I'm just going to grab my things from the back and go right in. I'll, um, I'll call you when we find something, all right?" She slammed the door before she could hear his consent, and nearly ran to the back, pulling out her things. Slamming the trunk shut, she made her way into the front of the Jeffersonian.

Did she need psychiatric treatment or something? This _was not normal_. She was not the type of woman to start crying over nothing, especially not over a song on the radio because it stirred up some old memories.

For god's sake, he wasn't _dead_.

She entered the lab, the doors swishing open. They shut as she headed towards her office, intending to put her things away and get a good look at the remains. They should be arriving shortly.

"Bren, did something happen? Are you okay?" This is what she was greeted with when she crossed the threshold into her office. Angela, sitting on her couch with a sketch pad open on her lap, with a concerned look to match that of Douglass's.

"I'm fine, Ang. Really." She attempted a smile, but knew that it probably came out as more of a grimace than anything else. Deciding to forgo the normal organization of her fieldwork equipment, she dropped everything except the case file into a pile next to the couch. Setting the file on her desk, she reached for her lab coat.

"Bren, it's not nothing. Normally, I would leave you alone about this, since you would probably end up telling Booth later on, but he's gone. And I'm…I'm worried about you. Since Booth left, all you've been doing is working." Angela stood up and walked over to stand in front of her. Brennan tried to step around her, her lab coat now pulled on over her clothes, but Angela anticipated this and moved with her, still blocking the path out to the lab.

"Angela, the remains?"

"Sweetie." Angela replied, taking her friend's arm gently. Surprisingly, Brennan didn't protest when she led her over to the couch, where she sat and pulled Brennan down with her. "You've been crying. I can see the tear tracks on your face. Did Agent Douglass do something to you? Because if he did, I might just have to-"

"He didn't do anything. And really, I'm fine now." Brennan nodded her head to emphasize her point.

"It's kind of hard to believe when I see you like this. Why won't you talk to me?"

"Because there's nothing wrong, Angela, all right?" Brennan stood, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Dr. Brennan?" Wendell poked his head around the edge of the door frame to find the two women staring at him. Well, Brennan was staring. Angela was glaring. "Did I interrupt something?"

"No." Brennan replied at the same time as Angela said, "Yes."

"Um, okay. Dr. Saroyan just wanted me to tell you that the remains have arrived." He remained in the doorway, frozen for a moment, while they just stared at him. "Um, I'm going to go talk to Hodgins about…" With that, he turned and left.

"We're not done with this, you know." Angela said as Brennan turned and began walking out of the room. She paused, and turned around to give Angela a tired look.

"Why can't you just let it go? I think that by now, I know how to take care of myself. Besides, I have remains to examine." She turned on her heel then, and left.

Sighing, Angela bent over and picked up her sketch pad, staring down at the two people that had taken shape under her steady hand.

"Damn it, Booth, you better come back to her." She murmured, reaching up to rip the picture out of the book. Grabbing a piece of paper out of Brennan's printer, she scribbled a quick note, and left that and the picture on the desk before turning and walking out of the office.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: Again, apologies for the lack of updates! School has been getting in the way, and then with Christmas and everything, plus I was working on another one-shot...I still have a few days left in winter break, so I should be able to get another chapter up before school starts again. Thank you for the patience and all of the wonderful reviews, favorites, and alerts! If I don't post again before New Year's, I hope everyone has a wonderful New Year's!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, and never will. Fox, and Hart Hanson, do.**

Four hours later, she walked into her office with an ID on the victim. Angela was angry with her over the whole 'not telling her anything' and 'working too much' issue, and it had taken her a good fifteen minutes and Cam intervening to get the information on the victim.

Sighing, she switched her lab coat for her light jacket, and looked over at the mess piled next to her couch. Leaving the organization of her field equipment until now hadn't been a good idea, she thought, walking over and staring down at it. It took a good half-hour to put the stuff away, and Agent Douglass needed the identification.

Then again, it was already six, and there probably wasn't that much that could be done now. He was probably already home, and she wasn't going to bother him there. He probably had a wife, and kids, and a nice house in the suburbs, and she wasn't going to disturb his dinner with her info about the remains. The bones had been down there for a long time, and one more day wasn't going to hurt, right?

This wasn't the way she usually worked, putting things off until the next day, but it seemed like a good idea now as she began to organize her equipment. Most of it wasn't stored in her office, and as she made her way back, the phone on her desk rang.

She frowned. No one, save Goodman, called her on that phone, and he only did when he was extremely angry over something she'd done, which hadn't happened since she started working with Booth. Perhaps the way she had treated Douglass had gotten back to him.

Sinking into her desk chair, she leaned forward and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hey, Bones, it's me." The connection wasn't good, and the line was full of static, but she could still make out his familiar voice.

"Booth? I thought you couldn't call." She replied, pressing the receiver to her ear as though that could bring her closer to him.

"Bones, I never said I couldn't call, I just said that I was pretty sure I wasn't going to be able to."

"Oh. Right." She could feel herself smiling like an idiot, and was glad that Angela had already left, so she wouldn't witness this.

"I can't talk too long, but I wanted you to know that I was all right. How are things going with Douglass?"

"Not too well."

"Bones, didn't I tell you to behave yourself?"

"Booth, I am not a child. I don't need to be admonished over this."

"Look, I know Douglass would never do anything to piss you off for real, so you must have been the one to start it." His tone hardened, and the smile that had taken its place so easily on her face fell into a frown.

"It's just—I miss _you_."

"I know, Bones, but that doesn't mean that you can just—can you promise me that you'll try and be a little nicer to him? I miss you, too, but that doesn't mean I'm acting all pissed off."

"Fine. I promise I'll be nice to him." She said, wondering how a simple conversation could turn south so fast.

"Thanks." He sighed, and a moment of silence stretched across the line. "I have to go now, all right? I'll try to call again as soon I can."

"You're not…angry, are you?" Hating how vulnerable her voice sounded, she cringed inwardly.

"No, Bones. You know that I-I love you, right?"

"Of course. I…I love you, too." He hung up, and for a moment, she sat frozen, the receiver dangling from one hand.

Placing the receiver back onto the phone, she stood, reaching for her coat. Shrugging it on, she grabbed the case file off of her desk and walked out of her office.

She paused before she left, one finger poised to flick off the lights. Her gaze drifted back to the silent telephone on her desk, but she quickly pulled her eyes away, letting the office go dark.

* * *

"He's still here?" She asked the information tech as he led her down to Douglass's office.

"Yes. Does that surprise you?" Her guide replied. "He probably works harder than all of us combined."

"I just figured he'd be the type to leave by five." She said, wondering just how much farther they would have to go. She wasn't exactly good at this small-talk stuff.

"He's a good guy. Really cares. I mean, we just sit around doing stuff on computers all day. He actually has to go out there and chase down the criminals. That takes a lot of guts." They turned down yet another hallway, while she tried not to think about how this was the second person to tell her today that Douglass was a good guy.

"Well, here we are." The tech gestured inside to the empty office. "Um, I know he didn't leave, so I guess you can just wait here."

"Thanks." She stepped into the office, surprised to find that it was about as bare and impersonal as they come. Sure, there was the large desk, desk chair, two chairs in front of it, computer monitor on top. But there were no pictures to suggest he had any type of family, no awards, not even anything other than a few case files and a coffee mug filled with pencils and other assorted writing utensils. It was nothing like what she had expected.

"Dr. Brennan?" She spun around to find him framed in the doorway, coffee mug in one hand, case file in the other. "To what do I owe this meeting?" He gave her a little half smile, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. "I thought you hated me."

"We, uh, ID'd the victim." She held out the file before she realized his hands were full.

He chuckled, and moved past her into his office, setting the case file and mug down before sinking down into the desk chair. "I can see it now."

Cheeks burning, she handed it to him.

"You can sit down, if you'd like. I know it's late." His head was bent, skimming the information in the case file. She remained standing.

"Her name is Melissa Stevenson, age 21. She was a student at American University…" Her voice trailed off at the amused look on his face. "What?"

"I can read, Dr. Brennan." He said, raising his eyebrows. "But if you'd like to continue, I'll listen."

She rolled her eyes and sighed when he smiled at her. "She majored in astronomy, minored in psychology. Seems like a strange choice—why would she study two things that are almost opposite in their fields? One is a recognized science while the other is purely conjecture."

"Maybe she appreciated the difference." He stood, pulling his suit coat off of the back of his desk chair.

"Cam's checking dental records now to confirm, but it's her. Angela's good."

"I'm sure she is. Do you have something else to do, or do you want to come see the victim's family with me?"

"Isn't it kind of late?" She asked, watching as he pulled on his jacket. "I mean, won't we be disturbing them?"

"Wouldn't you want someone to tell you if your daughter had been found after two years?"

"Yes."

"Then that's why we're going now. _We_ are going, aren't we?"

"Yes." She pushed past him into the hall. "But I'm taking my own car."

"Fine. Now can we go?"

* * *

"Are you sure that it's Melissa?" The woman sitting on the couch in front of them reached out towards the coffee table, plucking a tissue from the box sitting on it. She wasn't crying, but she began twisting it around in her hands, little flakes coming off as it shredded under her distress.

"Yes, Ms. Stevenson. We're very sorry for your loss." He shifted in the armchair, leaning forward. "I know this isn't a good time, but I'm going to have to ask you some questions."

"Of course. Anything that will help with your investigation."

"When was the last time you saw your daughter?"

"It's been two years now, but…it was in the morning. She left for school as usual. There was no indication that anything was wrong."

"She lived with you, then?"

"Yes. She paid me $200 every month for rent—I wanted the transition to her own apartment sometime in the future to be as painless as possible—and it was much cheaper than living in those dorms."

"Did she have a boyfriend, or anyone special in her life at the moment?"

"Not that I know of. There was one boy she talked about constantly, but she never told me that she had begun any relationship with him."

"What do you mean?"

"He was in her organic chem. class-"

"Why was she taking organic chem. if her major was astronomy, Ms. Stevenson?" Brennan interjected. "You don't need that credit for that major."

"She loved chemistry. I thought that a better choice would be astronomy, as she could get a job at NASA or something, but she did love chemistry."

"Then why didn't she decide to go into that field?"

"I'm paying for her college education, Dr. Brennan. I told her that if she wanted to study chemistry, she could pay for her own college education."

"Now, about that boy in her class? Do you remember his name?" Douglass prodded, steering the conversation back to that line of inquiry.

"Yes. It was Jacob Darion."

"Thank you, Ms. Stevenson. That will be all for now. But if you happen to remember anything else, don't hesitate to call." He held out a business card, which she took, sliding it into her pocket. "Dr. Brennan? What are you doing?"

"Is this your son in this picture?" Brennan pulled a framed photo off of the fireplace mantle.

"No. Melissa was my only child. That's Derek, my boyfriend."

"What happened to your husband?"

"He died about ten years ago. He had...lung cancer."

"Isn't Derek kind of young for you? You look to be about forty-five, while this boy can't be more than twenty-five." Douglass came up to her then, plucking the picture from her hands and setting it back on the mantle.

"What are you doing?" He hissed. "We're done here."

"It's fine, Agent Douglass. You can't help who you fall in love with, right?"

"We're going to have to talk to him." Brennan said before Douglass could stop her.

"Why do you have to talk to him? He didn't do anything wrong."

"Yes, Ms. Stevenson, I'm sure that's true. But, with Derek's young age near that of your daughter's, you can see how we need to talk to him." Douglass replied, attempting to salvage the situation.

"You think that he could have killed her? He wouldn't hurt anyone."

"Right, but we still need to pursue that line of questioning. If I could have his contact information, that would be very helpful."

* * *

"What were you doing in there? With that photo and everything?" Douglass asked her as they exited the Stevenson's house. "You couldn't just leave it alone, could you?"

"You weren't pursuing a line questioning that could potentially be fruitful. You don't know what they could have been doing. It has obviously been a long time since you conducted a murder investigation."

"I know how to do my job, all right? I just missed the picture." They reached his SUV and he leaned against the passenger side door.

"There is also the possibility that Derek could have been sexually assaulting the victim." She shifted on her feet and looked down at the sidewalk.

"Whoa. How did you get from them possibly dating behind the mother's back to sexual assault?"

"I would just appreciate it if you would look into him." She walked over to her car, sliding the key into the lock to unlock it.

"I can do that. You can get home all right?"

"Douglass, it's eight-thirty at night. I can drive myself home. I'm perfectly capable." She rolled her eyes and opened the car door.

"It's just Booth--"

"I know. I'll see you tomorrow." She slid into the driver's seat, started the car and drove off.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: I am so sorry for the delay! School, and homework, and a new favorite show (Glee) kind of got in the way of my writing. Plus, there were all of these standardized tests I had to take (ACT, state standardized tests), which weren't fun at all and turned my brain into mush for a little while. Hopefully now, with spring break coming up in two weeks, I can write another chapter without months of waiting in between. Thanks for all of the reviews, favorites, and alerts, plus all of your patience! I really, _really_, appreciate it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, and I never will. Fox, and Hart Hanson do. This is just for fun.**

She had been bent over the remains laid out on the examination table for over an hour when he walked in.

"Did you find anything new?" He asked, his voice startling her in the quiet of the room. She jumped a little at it, a blush reddening her cheeks as she looked over at him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you."

"You didn't." She replied, even though the evidence was obviously to the contrary. "I just didn't expect anyone, especially you, to be here this early." She let her eyes drift back over the bones.

"Let's just say that I'm a creature of habit." He smiled gently and walked up to the other side of the table. "It's amazing you can get anything out of these."

It was her turn to smile as she glanced up at him. "Thanks. Booth wasn't nearly as appreciative."

"I'm sure it couldn't have been all his fault." He said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now, is there anything I need to know before I go see Derek Havelyn?"

She picked up the skull and waved him over. He made his way over to stand next to her. The air stirred around them, and she caught a whiff of his cologne.

Focus on the case, not the agent working it, she scolded herself when a wayward thought of how pleasing he smelled crossed her mind.

And what about Booth?

"Do you see these fractures?" She asked, pulling her attention back to the case. He nodded, and she continued. "They're consistent with blunt force trauma, but—" She turned the skull over in her hands. "—there is no blood staining the inner cranial surface."

"And what does this tell you?" He inquired, leaning forward and squinting in an attempt to see better.

"That whatever caused these fractures happened post-mortem." She answered, reversing the skull and setting it down.

"So, she was killed somewhere else, transported to the woods and dropped somewhere in between?"

"It's possible. Then again, given where the fractures occurred, it's also very possible that the killer had been dragging the victim through the woods and hit a rock or some other large item."

"Oh."

"It's also possible, while unlikely, that these could have been caused by a weapon of some sort. I'll get Wendell to determine if these were weapon-related or not, and tell Angela to start running reconstructions to determine the exact force needed to create these fractures, along with the most likely scenario." She pulled off each rubber glove with a snap, and turned, throwing them into the wastebasket behind her.

"Okay. I should have enough to talk to the mother's boyfriend now." He moved to walk out of the room, and she followed, nearly bumping into him as he stopped suddenly, turning around. "I think it would be better if you sat this one out."

"What? Why? I always come along." She said, a confused look on her face. "And my knowledge of the remains could certainly be useful. There has to be a good reason why you wouldn't take me along."

She missed the look that crossed his face, suggesting that he could think of many reasons why he wouldn't take her along. He sighed. "Will you promise me that you won't butt into my questioning at the worst possible moment and started demanding to know if the suspect was sexually assaulting the victim?"

"Will you promise me that you'll ask him if he was? In a timely fashion so I don't have to do it for you?" She retorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Fine. I'll get around to that angle, but I don't see why you're so stuck on that being the only possibility."

"I just don't think we should leave out anything that could potentially be useful to the case." She followed him out of the room, towards her office.

"What I'm trying to say is that getting information, especially true information, out of real people is not as easy as what you get out of the those bones in there." He gestured back to the room they'd just left. "And they get offended easily, especially when someone suggests that they are a sexual predator."

"I know." She said, entering her office and exchanging her lab coat for the light jacket she'd thrown on over her clothes that morning. "Booth told me something like that during our second case, although there wasn't any talk about sexual predators. Anyway, he said something about giving up a piece of yourself first before asking anything personal. Although I'm not entirely sure that that applies here."

"Well, good. Now, do you need directions, or do you want to come with me?"

* * *

They stood on the front porch of a small bungalow in Bethesda. Agent Douglass had been knocking on the door for at least five minutes by now, and it was becoming increasingly evident that no one was going to answer.

"Derek Havelyn! If you're in there, you need to open up. This is the FBI!"

Reaching up, Brennan tugged on the sleeve of his suit jacket. "I don't think he's going to open the door!"

He turned to look at her. "Why are you yelling?"

"I thought that a significant amount of volume would make it more likely that you would stop knocking on the door." She replied, letting go of his arm. "I don't think he's home."

"Thank you, Dr. Obvious." Sighing, he plopped himself down onto the front step of the porch.

"Wait, we're just going to wait here?" She asked, looking down at him with her arms crossed over her chest. "You don't know how long he's going to be gone. He could have left for work right before we got here. And if he did, it's likely that he won't be back until five, or maybe not even at all. What if he's—" The slam of a car door interrupted her tirade, and they both looked over to find Derek Havelyn standing next to his car in the driveway, a perplexed expression on his face. Douglass was on his feet and walking over to him in a second, Brennan following just behind.

"Excuse me, are you Derek Havelyn?" Douglass asked, flashing his badge. "I'm Agent Douglass, and this is Dr. Brennan. We're going to have to ask you some questions."

"Is this about Melissa?" Havelyn asked, pulling out his keys and making his way up the front of the walk towards the house.

"Yes. How did you know about that?" They paused on the porch and waited as he inserted the key into the lock and opened the door.

"Ella already called and told me." They entered the foyer, and he gestured to what looked like a living room off to the left. "You can sit in there. I just have to change out of my work clothes." He walked down the hallway and Douglass ushered Brennan into the room.

"I do not need to be led." She said, pushing away his hand where it floated over the small of her back. "I am perfectly capable of directing myself where I need to go."

"It's better than shoving you in here, isn't it?" He replied, holding up his hands. "I could have done that, you know."

Instead of replying, she directed her attention to the room as he sank down onto the couch. "You'd think that people would get tired of living in an untidy house." She said, in reference to the clutter filling the tiny room.

"He lives alone. Why would he need to clean up after himself?" Douglass replied, looking over at her. "I mean, who's going to see it?"

"Is that your philosophy?" She asked, folding her arms over her chest again. "He's in a sexual relationship with a woman twenty years older than him. You'd think that he would want his house clean in case she dropped by."

"For your information, Dr. Brennan, we spend a lot of time at her house." Havelyn stood in the doorway, a glass of water in one hand. "Can I get you two anything?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks." Douglass replied while Brennan muttered a 'no'. Havelyn sank down into a chair across from the couch and Brennan sat down next to Douglass.

"What was your relationship to the victim?"

"I was her mother's boyfriend. I saw her when I went to see her mother."

"Were you two ever more than acquaintances?"

"We were…friends. She was nice."

"And twenty years younger than her mother." Brennan commented. Douglass glanced over at her, shocked, while Havelyn cleared his throat.

"What did you say that for?" Douglass hissed.

"I was just making a comment." Brennan whispered back.

"Yes, she was, but I would never cheat on Ella. I'm not that kind of man." Havelyn interjected, bringing the conversation back on topic.

"What kind of man, exactly, are you?" Brennan inquired, being completely serious.

"The kind of man who falls in love with an older woman. Is that a problem?" Havelyn asked, setting down his glass of water on the table next to the armchair.

"Not at all." Douglass said, sending a warning look towards Brennan. "You said that you were friends with the victim. Did she ever mention anyone to you named Jacob Dorian?"

"Was that the guy in her organic chem. class?"

"Yes."

Havelyn nodded to himself, his lips set in a thin line. "She was really into him. I'd go over for dinner, and she'd be going on about him with 'Jacob said this' or 'Jacob did that in lab today'. The guy was apparently some kind of genius—he never studied for his tests, and tutored other students. At one point, she was even considering failing a few tests and getting help from him. Thankfully, her mother and I talked her out of that one."

"Why would she do something like that?" Brennan questioned, a quizzical look on her face.

"She wasn't exactly the flirty or really socially active type. She was more the kind of girl who would wait until someone started a conversation with her, rather than instigate it. Especially when it came to guys. She once told me that even she thought it would be a miracle if she could ever talk to someone she was attracted to. She turned into a bundle of nerves every time she even thought about talking to a guy she found attractive."

"Well, why could she talk to you?"

"It wasn't like that at the beginning. It took a few months before she really started having in-depth conversations with me—and I mean more than one-word answers to questions I would ask. I considered introducing her to one of my buddies who was single, but he's more of a bed 'em and leave 'em kind of guy, and I knew she didn't need that."

"Did she have any other close friends that she hung out with?"

"I'm not really the best guy to answer that. She really only talked about Jacob with me. Her mother would probably know that, though." Havelyn stood, picking up his glass. "I don't think I can really be of any more help, and I need to get to bed. I have classes this afternoon."

"Okay. If you remember anything that could be helpful to the case, don't hesitate to call." Douglass extended a business card, and they made their exit.

"Did you really have to make that comment?" Douglass asked as they made their way back to his SUV. "You really had to break in at that point in my questioning?"

"I was just making a comment." Brennan replied frostily.

"Can you try to refrain from doing that? It's distracting, and doesn't exactly add anything to our investigation. People don't like being insulted for their lifestyle choices."

"I wasn't insulting him."

"Maybe you weren't, but that's what it sure as hell sounded like, and probably how he took it. Now, would you get in the car?"

"Fine."

* * *

"So, how's it going?" Brennan looked up from the paperwork she was finishing up to find Angela framed in her doorway.

"How's what going?" She asked, putting down the paperwork.

"What do you think, sweetie?" Angela asked, lowering herself carefully into the chair across from Brennan. "All right, that's the last time I work out that much before coming into work. What I meant was, how are things going with Agent Douglass?"

"Fine. He's a decent investigator, although he doesn't enjoy taking me along with him to see individuals who knew the victim." She spoke to her computer, pretending to check her e-mail. "He thinks I interrupt him at the worst moments, when I'm just commenting on the situation."

"Maybe you could try not commenting, and see what happens. I think he would be much more willing to bring along if you did that."

"Are you suggesting that I change my behavior, and who I am, just to please some sub agent?" Brennan said argumentatively, glaring at Angela over the computer monitor. "I don't hide my thoughts on a situation."

"I'm not asking you to change who you are, all right?" Angela shifted in her chair, setting her sketchpad on the desk. "I'm just saying, that maybe this time, it would be better to keep your mouth shut."

"I didn't do that with Sully, and look where it got me."

"Really, Brennan, that's the best you can come up with? Look at me." She reluctantly lifted her eyes to Angela's. "Booth's gone to Iraq, and I know it's bothering you, and you're keeping it all inside like you usually do, but it's not working. You're short with pretty much everyone, and this whole 'commenting' thing you've got going on with Agent Douglass is just a way for you to get those feelings out. Would you want to work with someone like that?"

"No." Brennan admitted, however forced. "But I was nicer to him."

"Sweetie, it's not just being nicer to him. It's respecting his authority in those situations. He's the one with the badge, so he's the one who gets to comment on the situation, not you."

"Booth lets me say whatever I want."

"Booth has also known you for almost five years, and is head over heels in love with you. I do know, though, that he tells you when you're being out of line. And right now, I'm Booth telling you that you're out of line."

"It is physically impossible to turn into someone else." At the glare Angela sent her way, she sighed heavily. "Fine. I'll tone down my comments."

"I would appreciate that. And I'm sure Douglass would, too." Angela picked up her sketchpad and stood. "You're not the only one who misses Booth."

"I know, Angela, you already told me that. Is that all you wanted? I need to get back to work." Brennan returned her attention back to the screen in front of her, while Angela walked out of the office, heels click-clacking against the lab's floors.

"Hey, you got a minute?" Agent Douglass stood just in her doorway, case file in hand.

"Yes." She replied, turning away from her computer. "What did you find out?"

"Not much. Her mother was a little irritable with me, but I did manage to get a list of the friends her mother knew about. It wasn't a very long list, and most of them either weren't home, or didn't live at their addresses anymore, but I did manage to find one of them. Her name's Jane McIntyre, and she's coming in around two."

"Is that all?"

"Well, I thought maybe we could get something to eat, go over what we have so far, maybe figure out something we missed?" He shifted on his feet, uncomfortable.

"Okay. I haven't eaten yet today, anyway." She stood, reaching for her coat and slipping it on.

"Well, don't we have to decide where we're going before we leave?" He said as she strode past him.

"I know a place." She grinned at him over her shoulder. "Now, are you coming or not?"


End file.
